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AT DAYBREAK 


A NOVEL 

BY A. STIRLING bs&^. 



BOSTON 

JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY 
1884 




Copyright, 1884, 

By James R. Osgood and Company. 


A/t Rights Reserved. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Betty 5 

II. Transplanted 14 

III. A Gentleman from India ... 26 

IV. Countess-elect 38 

V. An Early Episode 51 

VI. The Reverend Roderic Musgrove 68 

VII. Christina comes home . . . .81 

VIII. First Days of Widowhood . . 90 

IX. Mamsell loi 

X. “A Tramp from. Copenhagen ” . 117 

XI. Half-mourning 13 1 

XII. Axel meets a new Specimen . . 142 

« 

XIII. Sweet Charity 160 

XIV. “Making Friends” .... 173 

XV. A Ghost 184 

XVI. Frue Ekstrom 200 

XVII. Explanations 21 1 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 

XVIII. 

The Prince falls under a Spell . 

225 

XIX. 

Hern’s Pond 

242 

XX. 

At the Gap 

252 

XXL 

A Little Adventure .... 

264 

XXII. 

Perilous Sporting-ground 

271 

XXIII. 

The Stone Cottage is deserted 

289 

XXIV. 

Return of the Prince . . . 

298 

XXV. 

Daybreak !.►.... 

312 


AT DAYBREAK. 


CHAPTER I. 

BETTY. 

T he afternoon shadows pf the great elm- 
branches swung drowsily on the gravel-path. 
The air was filled with a faintly murmurous 
rhythm, accounted for by frequent sallies, across 
the warm sand, of the small black-mailed insect who 
contributes in his grassy retirement to that sweet 
September hum. From some invisible height a 
sharp, plaintive note descended : the voice of the 
bird known to some country-folk as the “hot-bird.” 

There were plenty of trees and lilac-bushes help- 
ing to shade the wide brick house-front with its 
cheerful-looking awnings ; but a still heat had gath- 
ered even under that green protection. The stone 
animals guarding the base of the steps felt quite 
warm as you put your hand on their vine-wreathed 
flanks : the sun had been trying their patience 
severely that day. So Betty thought, as she sat on 
the steps where the shade was deepest : a little idle 


6 


AT DAYBREAK, 


figure, with a long flaxen braid following the con- 
vexity of its little spine, its elbows planted on its 
knees, its round chin propped at a disconsolate slant 
in the hollows of its hands. 

She was staring at the stone lions just then, and 
thinking sympathetically that there was something 
very thirsty in the persistent loll of their granite 
tongues. It moved her to that extent presently that 
she came down off the steps and got a sprinkler 
from the grass-plat, and under pretence of watering 
the vines poured such a libation between the patient 
jaws that it should have relaxed their piteous gape. 
It did not, all the same ; but Betty felt easier as she 
returned to her shady spot on the flight of steps. 
She was quite advanced in years — over eight of 
them ; but the carved lions were old playmates of 
hers, and always seemed to have more life in them 
than most carved lions. 

She sat down again, in the same attitude as before, 
giving a sigh that was almost a grown-up sigh for 
volume. The honeysuckle clinging around the porch 
was letting its last flowers drift helplessly over the 
steps, as though it were really no use in life to keep 
up one’s extra adornments in such very warm weather. 
Betty swept up a few of the wrinkled blossoms in her 
hand, and looked regretfully at the vine. She was in 
a susceptible mood this afternoon, it seemed ; more 
so than usual, though she was always a tender and 
imaginative little maiden. But trouble often in- 
creases one’s sensibility, even in small matters — and 
Betty had an immense trouble ! It was the first time 


BETTY, 


7 

she ever had one, anything like so large ; its weight, 
combined with the heat of the day, took the spring 
altogether out of her elastic little feet. 

Axel was gone away! Axel was only a brown- 
eyed urchin in a Scotch cap and “monkey-jacket;” 
but in Betty’s estimation, as he bounced into the 
half-filled coach at his father’s door to ride to the 
railway, he was by far the most important factor of 
the load. 

Betty could not remember a time when she and 
Axel had not played together. She was the younger by 
several years ; but there were hardly any boys in the 
vicinity, and anyhow Axel did not like rough boys. 
Not that he was a “girl-boy” in the least; but from 
his frock-days up he had shown a calm superiority to 
the common types of infancy — a sort of gentlemanly 
disdain for the squabbling, tumbling enjoyments of 
the average boy. The same exclusive taste led him 
to make a comrade of the ladylike wee Betty, all the 
more that there were no ill-mannered infants near by 
to make fun of him for it. He could not forbear 
domineering over her a little ; but that was perfectly 
acceptable to Betty. She would prefer being ordered 
around by Axel to being slaved for by any other boy 
in the neighborhood ; indeed, she took no interest in 
any other boy. 

There- was a strong tie of intimacy between the 
children’s families. They had lived for many years 
on adjacent land, and bot^ of them in houses which 
might well be called old homesteads by this time, 
though additions and improvements had taken place 


8 


AT DAYBREAK, 


in them year by year. Betty’s home had seen the 
less remodelling of the two. It had not been changed 
at all, within her short recollection : the same vines 
curled, summer after summer, around the same stone 
window-ledges ; the same huge lilac-bushes flowered, 
summer after summer, on either side of the long 
flight of steps ; the same broad brick house-front 
reddened in the sun. They seemed to be the same 
chip-sparrows, too, that sat in sociable, vacillating 
rows on the slopes of the small dormer-windows,^ 
year by year, tipping their brown heads to look at 
Betty bringing crumbs to scatter on the grass. Chris- 
tina, the older sister, used to toss up twigs at them, 
to see them flutter off and circle through the trees in 
a panic ; but Christina had been away from home 
for two or three years now, and Betty and the chip- 
birds had it all their own peaceful way. 

Axel never made targets of the birds ; he was too 
kind-hearied for that. He used sometimes to get 
angry at Christina for such cruel diversions. The 
young lady was several years older than Axel ; she 
did not worry herself much then about his opinion of 
her. 

She was rather a difficult child to get on with gen- 
erally — “peculiar,” her mother said. Tenderness 
seemed to have been left out of her composition, so 
far as the family were able to discover. As long as 
she reigned alone in the Karlsen nursery she treated 
her subjects with fluctuatiifg favor; but when a new 
claimant to the throne appeared, Christina abdicated 
with great readiness. They set it down to her credit 


BETTY, 


9 


that she never seemed jealous of Betty. For the 
rest, she was variable, she was wilful, she could 
never be coaxed into more than a fleeting show of 
fondness for anybody but through the medium of 
presents, in respect to which she showed an abnor- 
mal degree of calculation. The family felt, on the 
whole, a certain relief when Aunt Bertha Karlsen, 
the rich Uncle Caspar’s widow, carried off Christina, 
at twelve years of age, for an unlimited visit at her 
*house in the city. 

Aunt Bertha, as they called her, had never visited 
her brother-in-law’s family until Betty her namesake 
was entering her second year. She was an American 
lady, pronounced to be fine-looking, and certainly 
singular. Her relatives had never suspected her of 
any great attachment to them ; indeed, her corre- 
spondence with them had been so scanty that she 
knew almost nothing of the family census beyond the 
existence of a small Bertha, which last fact was 
rather gratifying to her. 

Having no children of her own, and perhaps get- 
ting a trifle lonesome in the midst of splendors. 
Aunt Bertha, moved by one of her sudden fancies, 
bought a gold mug and rushed off to Lyme to make 
the acquaintance of her niece. 

Betty as an infant was good-nature in person ; so 
there was dismay among the retainers when her 
babyship, on the introduction of Aunt Bertha and 
the gold mug into the nursery, pulled a wry face and 
showed signs of open dissatisfaction. Brought into 
contact with her aunt’s stiff silks the namesake wept 


lO 


AT DAYBREAK, 


bitterly — even directing a kick of hostility against 
the influential visitor. The mug, with a funny image 
on the handle, availed nothing. 

“ My niece appears to have a somewhat irritable 
disposition,” observed Aunt Bertha, wflth a piqued 
air. 

At this point Christina, in a white frock, appeared 
at the nursery door, fluttering about on her tiptoes 
and looking at the handsome strange lady. 

“ Bless me, Letitia, what little spirit is this ? Not 
your child ? What ! is there another one ? ” said the 
lady to her brother’s wife, staring at the older niece. 

Christina was excessively pretty ; and Aunt Karl- 
sen was very susceptible to beauty. She flattered 
herself by finding an image of her younger self in 
this blooming child’s face. Christina advanced with 
her little assured step, attracted partly by her aunt’s 
admiring look, partly by the large and gleaming pen- 
dants on that lady’s lace-ruffled neck ; and submitted 
her blonde curls to be stroked with perfect confidence. 

“What a charming face and what a responsive 
temperament ! ” said Aunt Karlsen, delighted. 
“ Should you like a wax-doll, my dear, with joints ? 
or would you rather have a walking-doll and a 
trousseau from Colifichet’s ? ” 

Betty got the mug ; but Christina got the doll and 
Aunt Karlsen’s heart, and many a subsequent gift of 
more appreciable value. And in the course of a few 
years the lady made her second visit, and found no 
great difficulty in getting possession of the favored 
niece for an indefinite period. 


BETTY. 


II 


Betty missed her sister very little ; she thought of 
her occasionally with a comfortable sense of safety 
from teasing, which was altogether a novelty. Axel 
Brand, her playfellow from “ down the road,” was a 
much more sympathetic comrade. 

And now at last, there was Axel gone : and deso- 
lation and emptiness had settled down upon the 
alleys and arbors of the sunny old garden. The 
small Ariadne, sitting forlorn in her tear-moistened 
pinafore, retired into the past with quite a mature 
fervor of sentiment. She went over the various 
scenes in which the brown eyes and monkey-jacket 
had figured. 

Now it is a spring-wandering in the woodlands: 
they have discovered the prettiest little torrent, 
swishing down a hillside, lit up with broken sunlight 
through the birches. “ Sit down there, Betty, and 
keep the sun olf my face ! ” commands Axel the 
Great Caliph, stretching out regally on the moss. 
Betty obeys with meekness. She knows he will take 
occasion to tell her some wonderful bit out of the 
Arabian Nights ; and whether he does or not, what 
diversion could be more grateful than to sit and 
keep the sun off Axel’s face ? 

Now it is a lovely white Christmas, snow-hushed 
and mysterious, fragrant indoors with mignonette and 
roses, and with the sweeter breath of fir and the 
waxy scent of candles. And in the evening they 
hear voices carolling softly in the starlit garden : and 
Axel pulls her to the window, and they look down 
and see a group of shadowy choristers standing out 


12 


AT DA YBREAK. 


by the whitened hedges. Then the singers are 
brought in — a party from the village ; and there is 
so much talking and laughing, and clicking of 
glasses and dancing of wax-lights, that Betty’s head 
grows quite heavy, and without her knowledge the 
brilliant evening merges itself into next morning. 

Again it is a birthday — her birthday ; and Axel 
comes whistling across lots to bring her a basket of 
his favorite white clethra. Actually Betty is preco- 
cious enough — remembering that basket of clethra 
— to wish that she had kept some of the fragrant 
spikes, and flattened them in a book, for souvenirs. 

“Axel will come back next summer, after his 
school is over,” she reminds herself, trying to regard 
that as a bit of consolation. But she is not so old 
yet that ten months do not stretch out before her 
like a Great Desert of time, too immense for her 
small mind to span. 

“ Betty, where are you ? ” says her mother’s voice, 
floating down from an upper window. 

“ On the doorstep,” Betty answers, rising slowly 
and coming up into the sunlight. 

“Why, Betty Karlsen, where did you find that 
little old frock ? and what induced you to put those 
black ribbons on your hair ? What notion has crept 
into your head now, you foolish child ? ” 

For Betty, with a funny little feeling that sable 
was most appropriate to this melancholy day, had 
hunted up a black frock from some remote closet, 
and invested herself with it ; and had also fished out 
some knots of black ribbon from a chaotic bonnet- 


BETTY, 13 

box, and tied the same on her flaxen braid and on 
the neck of her pinafore. 

“ Is it any harm ? ” she says, irresolute, and look- 
ing up honestly with big, rounded, questioning eyes 
I put them on, you know, because he was going 
away. I did n’t think it would be any harm.” 

Mrs. Karlsen took her head in with a silent laugh. 
She always humored the child’s fancies, and never 
showed it if they amused her. 

Betty went off mutely by herself, and nestled over 
a book in the dim library. She had happened right 
upon a story which was one of Axel’s favorites, and 
which they both knew by heart. It was about a 
Prince who rode out into the world for adventures ; 
and who had such a hard time of it, between dragons 
and magicians, that he never came home again till 
his hair was gray. But his Princess, in order to 
preserve her youth till his return, shut herself up in 
her tower to sleep ; and would not be waked until 
the Prince himself climbed the tower-stair and 
dropped his shield at her feet. This story they 
called Princess Faithful.” 

“ Axel has gone out into the world, too,” said 
Betty; and she read the old story through again, 
while more than one sprinkle of reminiscence fell on 
the black ribbons of the little pinafore. 


14 


AT DAYBREAK, 


CHAPTER II. 

TRANSPLANTED. 

T hree generations had been recorded since 
Jens Karlsen, a fair-haired and gray-eyed 
young man, travelled away from Jutland and sailed 
over seas to America. No courtiers nor long-titled 
gentlemen were among Betty’s ancestors ; the origi- 
nal Jens was a tough-sinewed farmer’s son, though an 
intelligent and well-informed one. 

As the transplanted family of Karlsen grew and 
multiplied, it was steadily favored in its temporal 
affairs ; whether by luck, or as a result of Northern 
muscle and diligence, the descendants were not 
moved to inquire. By the time that the odd little 
name, bequeathed by father to son, had worked itself 
around to John^ it had become the property of a most 
American-looking gentleman, who retained no trace of 
his origin except his blonde beard, his patronymic, 
and a mild interest in the jagged little tongue of 
land which sheltered his forefathers. 

This John Karlsen, at the age of twenty-seven, 
'being in some sort a gentleman of leisure, with a 
good education, made extended tours in the Old 
World ; whence he finally brought back, as Mrs. 
Karlsen, a fair and refined young person of Eng- 


TRANSPLANTED, 


15 


lish parentage. Mrs. Karlsen had been in course of 
preparation for a less retired career — that of a pro- 
fessional vocalist, in fact. She had fine musical 
gifts, and might have won a famous place among 
artists. Put John Karlsen was extremely happy 
that she had not yet undertaken her public training 
when he made her acquaintance. He congratulated 
himself that her experience had been confined to 
musicales in somebody’s drawing-rooms under her 
master’s auspices. He respected the art, but was 
sensitive about publicity for the lady whom he was 
about to distinguish. He was as proud as though 
Jens Karlsen of that early generation had come of 
blood royal instead of solid Jutland farmer-stock. 

So he hastened to carry off the young lady, as it 
were Iphigeneia from the sacrifice ; and brought her 
home to America, having impressed upon her that 
she was never to employ her talent but for his 
own pleasure and that of his friends. The injunc- 
tion was needless ; directly on leaving England some 
unaccountable cold or other malady made short 
work of her beautiful voice, to her very bitter regret 
indeed. She sang no more, except that sometimes 
she tried the sweet remains of her voice for her own 
wistful pleasure, and for the entertainment of the 
little sovereigns Christina and' Betty, 

People who knew the Karisens often wondered 
how it was that they were satisfied to keep on with 
their quiet life in Lyme, A few who knew them 
better understood perfectly how the sweet, romantic 
air of the pretty village, and especially their own 


i6 


AT DAYBREAK. 


retired home among the trees, suited the Somewhat 
poetic taste of the couple. 

There was still another attraction for Mr. Karlsen 
at Lyme. He was a man of very warm attachment 
to the limited number whom he called his friends ; 
and one of that number had been for years resident 
on land adjoining the Karlsen property. Dr. Brand 
showed externally still less of the Scandinavian than 
his friend Karlsen ; notwithstanding that his relations 
with the Kattegat w'ere much closer than the latter 
gentleman’s. It was the discovery of their common 
origin that first drew the two together, when they 
met as young men, Harold Brand having just re- 
turned Math his degree from Copenhagen. 

“ My father went there before me,” he explained 
to Karlsen ; “ it ’s only natural he should want me to 
finish off at his Alma Mater. One may as well go 
to Copenhagen as anywhere else. I learned to be 
very fond of it, too. When I M^ent over to Denmark 
I thought I was going out of the world, you know ; 
but it ’s a charming land, let me tell you ! I M^ould 
really have liked to settle there, but that the family 
is grafted in America, and it would be a bad thing to 
break one’s self off. I shall always regret Denmark. 
Is it possible you ’ve never been there, Karlsen ? ” 

No, he had never been there, and never cared very 
much about going, though he felt some natural inter- 
est in the country. 

Brand, American-born as he was, declared that 
nothing would ever destroy his awakened and innate 
passion for old Dania ; and so, indeed, he remained, 


TRANSPLANTED. 


17 

ardent Dane to the last day of his life. Karlsen 
admired the dark-eyed young patriot, and wondered 
at him, unable to sympathize very deeply with his 
enthusiasm. 

“ I could get enthusiastic about you^ Harold,” he 
sometimes said, smiling at his friend and approving 
his eloquence more readily than its theme. “ But an 
old Norse fellow like you has no business with those 
stunning black eyes. If you had my pale phiz, now, 
it would seem more the thing for you to be singing 
runes and telling legends and all that.” 

“ Oh, there are plenty of dark phizzes in Den- 
mark,” Brand said. “ I remember one section where 
you could all but fancy yourself in some Spanish 
village, just by looking at the ‘midnight eyes’ in 
the roads and windows.” 

It was easy to like Dr. Brand. He had a fine en- 
gaging face, beautiful eyes, a broad, active figure, and 
the most perfect address in the world, people were 
apt to say. 

“ If Providence had seen fit to make you a rascal,” 
Karlsen once remarked to him, contemplatively, 
“you might have been the most successful rascal 
that ever beguiled mankind ! ” 

This compliment Brand received in all simplicity, 
with a laugh that certainly no rascal could have 
achieved. 

He bought the house and land bordering on the 
Karlsen homestead ; and told his friend : “ If I ever 
marry, I ’ll come out here and run up the Danish 
flag, and establish my Penates under its folds.” 


i8 


AT DAYBREAK. 


Karlsen was delighted with the promise. He was 
so far under the other^s influence as to decide on 
giving his first daughter a name from the land of her 
grandfathers ; and recalling the royal name of Chris- 
tian as prominent in Dr. Brand’s historical sketches, 
it seemed to him that the derivative Christina would 
have rather a pretty and dignified effect. So, one 
Sunday morning the small nameless one was borne 
into the village church, and came out Christina 
Karlsen, blinking quietly on the nurse’s shoulder. 

Christina’s papa reported complacently to Dr. 
Brand ; and was quite vexed when Brand told him 
in amused deprecation to read his Danish history, 
and see what an ineligible name he had pitched upon 
for the little maid. 

“ Well, I can’t help it now,” said the crestfallen 
papa. “ I hope it won’t hurt her.” 

By and by Dr. Brand married a pretty Philadel- 
phian with brown-velvet eyes and a spirit of truly 
old-fashioned devotion to “her Harold.” They 
came, according to promise, and set up their Penates 
within a stone’s throw of the Karlsen limits. Dr. 
Brand took the first step toward household equip- 
ment by erecting a flag-pole on his roof and letting 
fly the “ Dannebrog ; ” which afterwards caused 
great perplexity to such villagers and wayfarers as 
beheld the flap of the mysterious scarlet ensign from 
the high-road. 

The interior of his house bore equal witness to his 
patriotism. As one entered the hall a head of Ber- 
tel Thorvaldsen looked down in marble from a con- 


TRANSPLANTED, 


19 


spicuous niche. At right and left were stationed 
large casts from the master’s works, which little 
Betty’s soft gray eyes studied with wonder in after 
years, ranging through the house under Axel’s lead. 

One half of the Doctor’s library was devoted to 
Scandinavian literature ; the shelves were topped by 
busts and medallions of compatriot authors; and 
over one alcove, where the children often loitered, 
the head of gentle Andersen rose in kindly abstrac- 
tion. The Doctor, finding them there looking at it, 
would tell over anecdotes from the good man’s 
treasury, and sometimes repeat his pretty history of 
the boy Bertel ; afterwards calling them out into the 
hall and making them admire the great head of the 
genius grown a man. Thorvaldsen was one of the 
Doctor’s idols. Little Axel himself was always put 
to sleep under a copy of the beautiful “ Night,” ever 
flying with drowsy wings and poppy-wreathed fore- 
head. 

Now and then they brought Betty in to take din- 
ner with them, which was a high privilege to her. 
She looked with silent gratification around the large 
dining-room, where everything seemed to be made of 
polished wood except the heavy-framed paintings ; 
at Dr. Brand’s dark-whiskered face, smiling jovially 
over the red and yellow decanters and little twink- 
ling glasses ; at Axel, sitting up very gentlemanlike 
behind his own diminutive tankard with a carved lid. 
She tasted daintily of awe-inspiring dishes, and of a 
miraculous red jelly which Mrs. Brand called by 
some heathenish name, and praised as a favorite dish 


20 


A T DA YBREAK, 


in the Doctor’s country. And when they left the 
table her eyes always wandered to the great dark 
buffet set out with strange-shaped glass and a 
singular figure of a knight on a charger, who was 
susceptible of being lifted off and resolving himself 
into a cup-lid. 

“ See there ! How the race has dwindled ! ” the 
Doctor would say, stopping before it. “ Look at 
that hunting-cup — its original belonged to one of 
the greatest kings of Denmark, who used to fill and 
empty it in a breath ! Let a Dane of the present 
day try that feat ! ” 

The “ hunting-cup ” was a huge and curious struc- 
ture, all repousse-work, which he had seen among the 
treasures of a castle and managed to get tolerably 
copied for himself, at great expense. It was said to 
accommodate the amount of two bottlesful, which the 
thirsty sovereign, according to tradition, used to ab- 
sorb at a gulp. 

“ I don’t believe that, you know,” Axel remarked 
aside, without any irreverence. “ My father believes 
it, but I don’t. Not unless those old kings were 
regular giants ; and I think that ’s not very likely.” 

Betty thought so, too ; but looking after the 
Doctor’s handsome head, which she admired much 
more than Thorvaldsen’s, as it receded into his 
library, she delicately refrained from admitting the 
doubt. 

In the unlucky days when Dr. Brand had sent her 
playfellow into the city to school, those marble heads 
and figures were something of a solace to Betty. 


TRANSPLANTED. 


21 


She never missed paying them her respects, on her 
visits to Mrs. Brand, before going up to the sitting- 
room above. The kind lady would be oftenest found 
in that smaller room next her own, where the little 
bas-relief of “ Night ” glimmered like a white moon 
on the wall. Her brown eyes always smiled up in 
welcome, though sometimes with lately-moistened 
lashes, at sight of the small inquiring face presented 
in her doorway. She was ever ready to give to the 
last particular the latest-received news of Axel : how 
he was staying with distant relatives in the city ; how 
kind they were to him, and how he had entirely 
gotten over being homesick (at which Betty secretly 
felt hurt) ; how much there was to see in town, and 
how “awfully jolly” it all was — which phrase his 
mamma marvelled at, and feared he had been 
brought into contact with some undesirable street- 
urchins. And — as an afterthought — the absent 
one mentioned that his standing at school was very 
good ; which indeed was confirmed by reports from 
his teachers to the pleased Doctor. 

It was a joyful day when Mrs. Brand could an- 
nounce his first vacation-time. Betty ran down the 
long gravel-walk to look, whenever a coach was 
heard rumbling, all that day and the next. Mrs. 
Brand, sewing and waiting by the little casement of 
Axel’s room, smiled as she caught glimpses of the 
yellow braid flying between the trees. The braid 
resolved itself into its strands on the twelfth trip, 
and blew into a cloud around Betty’s disappointed 
face. 


22 


AT DAYBREAK. 


“ I suppose,” sighed the quaint maiden to herself, • 
that I must learn a lesson of patience ! ” 

And she returned slowly and mounted on one of 
her stone lions, looking, as she sat up with the 
flaxen shower around her straight little figure, like a 
miniature Una in a revery. 

“ How-do-you-do- Betty ?” a. queer small voice said 
presently at her side. 

Betty looked up with a start. A gray parrot sat 
on the step, a ribbon fastened to its foot ; and at the 
other end of the ribbon was Axel, mounted on the 
twin lion and chuckling with mischief. 

“ Oh, oh ! ” cried Betty, flying to the ground and 
seizing on him joyfully. “ Is it really you. Axel ? 
How could you get here without my knowing it ? 
Where did you get the sweet parrot.? Have you 
seen your mother.? How long have you been 
here ? ” 

“ Don’t step on the parrot, child ! I came in the 
last train but one, and Griffin drove me over. That ’s 
why you did n’t see me in the coach ; but I saw you, 
from mother’s window. Have you been running out 
that way all day to watch for me ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed,” said Betty, in high excitement, 

“ and all day yesterday. Oh, dear me ! ” she sighed, 
hopping about like a wren, “ I am so glad you have 
come ! And the nice bird, does he belong to you ? 
How does he know my name .? ” 

“ Oh, he ’s been trained. Somebody made me a 
present of him, and I thought I would bring him 
home to you. Mother does n’t like parrots. So I 


T/^ANSPLANTED. 


23 


tied the ribbon on him, and taught him what to say ; 
and when I tweak the ribbon he says it.” Axel 
illustrated by tweaking the ribbon, and — ^^/low-do- 
. you-do-Betty ? ” murmured the bird again in thought- 
ful tones. 

“ O, how good of you. Axel ! ” cried Betty, en- 
chanted, clasping her hands. And then she fell to 
examining him to see what changes six months’ 
absence had produced. He did look a little larger, 
she thought, and stronger ; and he had his curly poll 
well-clipped, and wore a new jacket which made him 
look rather older. She sat on the lowest step, 
admiring him. The sweet garden-air blew up from 
the flower-beds, and fluttered her hair ; the pigeons 
cooed under the elm-trees ; there was something 
wonderful in it. She felt strangely like part of a 
fairy story ; the Prince had come home. 

“Your mother read me all your letters, but I want 
to hear more. Tell me what you did out of school ? 
What was there to amuse you ? ” 

Then Axel related many histories of his doings, 
which Betty devoured breathlessly, and thought that 
he was getting quite tremendously experienced in the 
world. He had attended a great many concerts, 
and could mention a number of performers by name, 
with easy familiarity ; he had witnessed all the 
parades and races of any account, and been to the 
theatre occasionally with the people who had charge 
of him ; and he went to his dancing-class every 
week. He had also much to say about a certain 
Flora Tompkins, whose dancing was a thing to be 


24 - 


AT DA YBREAK. 


remQ,mbered. Flora Tompkins, it appeared, had 
black eyes and long black ringlets, and many dimples 
— a description most harrowing to Betty, whose hair 
suggested corn-silk, and whose small cheek made the- 
purest of undimpled curves. 

“ What a nice name Flora is, is n’t it ? ” said he. 
“ It was the name of a goddess, too, don’t you 
know ? ” 

“ What ’s a goddess ? ” inquired Betty, rather 
nettled and very curious. 

“ Oh, a goddess was a — a Greek person, with wings 
shaped something like battledores, you know, who 
lived in the woods and had altars. They generally 
turned into trees and bushes, I believe,” explained 
Axel, whose study of the myths was largely pictorial. 

“ Oh,” said Betty, privately desiring a like fate for 
Flora Tompkins. “ And has she wings shaped like 
battledores ? ” 

“ Nonsense ; I did n’t say anything of the sort,” 
returned Axel, cuffing the lion’s ears with a lilac- 
branch. I only said it was a pretty name. Don’t 
you think it ’s a pretty name, now ? ” 

“ Oh yes, very. Was Tompkins the name of a 
goddess, too ? ” said Betty, naughtily, but with a 
simple face. 

“They didn’t have any last names,” chuckled 
Axel, pleased at her evident pique. “ But I like 
yellow hair best, you know.” And Betty instantly 
glowed with bliss, and could have pardoned the 
annoying Flora any quantity of dimples after that 
admission. 


TRANSPLANTED. 


. 25 

“ Betty ! ” a voice interrupted from the house. 

Come in, dear, immediately ; your practice-hour 
has just struck.” 

“It’s my mother. She doesn’t know you are 
here, of course,” Betty said, starting up. “ Come 
in with me, and bring the pretty Poll. Dear me ! ” 
she added, putting a reluctant foot on the step,’ “ I 
wish there was no practice-hour ! I do so dislike 
to practice, you can’t think ” — 

“ Flora Tompkins can play five pieces, without 
her notes,” observed Axel, laughing, as he followed , 
up the steps. 

“ Can she ? ” said Betty, in a careless manner ; 
and silently determined to play ten, by the next 
vacation-time. 


26 


AT DA YBREAK, 


CHAPTER IIL 

A GENTLEMAN FROM INDIA. 

T hat her children should be musically gifted 
was always one of Mrs. Karlsen’s strongest 
' aspirations ; and it seemed, during many years of her 
anxious training, that after all she would be disai> 
pointed by them both. The musical soul in her 
longed to see the bud of her own early promise 
break into flower in her daughters. 

“ It w'ould make up to me for what I lost in the 
sealing-up of my poor voice,” she said, reminiscently 
sighing. 

Christina was put to practice as soon as she could 
sit for ten minutes together on a music-chair. It 
never seemed to bore "the child particularly ; she 
went at it. with the unconcern of a little machine, 
and laid the foundations of an excellent technique, 
whatever else might be wanting in her future per- 
formances. But as she grew older her mother was 
compelled to admit mournfully : “ No, she has not 

a spark of genius : she has not even the true musical 
temperament.” 

The second daughter became the object of still 
greater solicitude. From Betty with the yellow 
queue back to Betty with no hair at all to speak of, 


A GENTLEMAN FROM INDIA. 


27 


she had been under the closest surveillance for a sign 
of the “ sacred fire.” Mrs. Karlsen had her brought 
every day in the nurse’s arms and kept close by the 
piano ; where she herself sat, and tried with frag- 
ments. of her own well-remembered music to win the 
little ears and in-form the little soul with harmonies. 
On one of these occasions, having appeared to 
listen in a state of stupefaction, Miss Betty suddenly 
reached out her minute hands and brought them 
down on the keyboard with a wild but decisive 
swoop, suggestive of Thalberg at the least. 

Yes, Letitia,” said John Karlsen, approaching 
with an air of grave interest, “ the infant is a prodigy. 
Notice the breadth of her technique, and the bold- 
ness of her execution ! ” 

But Mr. Karlsen did not particularly care about 
musical genius for his children. 

The fact remained that Betty in her eighth year 
had not fulfilled the promise of those remarkable 
demonstrations ; because, as she complained to her 
friend Axel, she did so dislike to practice.” Left 
alone at the instrument, she might be heard gallop- 
ing through her scales at a rate to make Mr. Plaidy’s 
hair bristle in dismay ; and she left the music-stool 
as if it were suddenly red-hot, the instant her hour 
was up — not before, for she was very conscientious. 

“ Both my children disappointments ! ” her mother 
would say, vexed quite to tears. It is really too 
much — and I hoped for something, at least, from 
Betty ! ” 

“ But, mamma, Christina practices quite hard,” 


28 


AT DAYBREAK. 


Betty ventured, looking abashed at her little hum- 
ming-birds of hands ; “ and you know Aunt Karlsen 
writes that she is getting to play very well/^ 

“ Christina has no feeling ; and that can never be 
acquired/’ her mamma said despondently. “ I used to 
fancy that Betty — but, dear me 1 what is the use of 
feeling if one is not trained ? If she could have an 
opportunity of hearing something worth while, per- 
haps ” 

The incitements which Betty needed were at hand. 
Axel’s roguish speech about Flora Tompkins was the 
first. From that time on she went steadily to her 
piano at the regular hour, and delved through her 
exercises with an amusingly dogged air ; once she 
actually worked at it five minutes beyond the hour. 
Her mother was mystified but happy. Betty’s self- 
love, which was stronger all through her life than any 
one ever suspected, was behind the scenes. 

And finally, one bright day in the Indian summer, 
an arrival occurred at the Karlsens’. It had b»en 
talked about days before ; a lady from England, an 
old friend of Mrs. Karlsen, was coming to visit them 
for a day or two, and they were making great prepa- 
rations to receive her. “ I am so glad on Betty’s ac- 
count ! ” the little girl heard her mother say, and 
wondered why. She looked and lingered about, and 
noticed that the music-room seemed to be the chief 
seat of activity. There was much tuning going on, and 
piling up of music-books ; the great portrait of some- 
body inspired, with long hair — which Betty regarded 
with awe — and the beautiful, sickly head of other 


A GENTLEMAN FROM INDIA. 29 


somebody with long hair, were wreathed with green ; 
and the bronze Master in his niche frowned grandly 
upon a votive offering of myrtle and red roses. 

The lady came, and Betty was dazzled by her — 
she could not tell why, for nothing could have been 
quieter than the visitor’s tone of dress and manner. 
She had a slight, sweeping figure, and a young face, 
very poetical ; and she spoke with a beautiful English 
accent, like Mrs. Karlsen’s. Betty never forgot the 
visit ; but of the lady she could never recall a dis- 
tinct image — only an impression of dark gray silk, 
of very long white hands ; of a pale arched fore- 
head, with deep and misty eyes, and drooping hair. 
And of all incidents at that time she could only rec- 
ollect clearly that the stranger had taken a seat at 
the piano, and with those long white hands called up 
such hosts of wonderful tones, such dream-like voices 
and echoes, that it was not to be believed the same 
piano which gave out unwilling reiterations of Plaidy 
da^after day. 

Betty went up silently and stood behind the ab- 
sorbed player. There was a new world here. A 
strange, unspeakable feeling swelled under her little 
pinafore ; she felt herself all ears, to drink in that 
stream of mysterious sound, and all soul, to feel it. 
She stood breathless while it lasted — until the lady’s 
hands lay still, and she turned, quite pale, and bent 
one of her long, soft looks into the little girl’s wist- 
ful eyes, which were rounded with tears. Betty was 
a desperately' modest child; she would not, of all 
things, be seen to cry ; and while the others were 


30 


AT DA YBREAK. 


coming up and talking around the piano, she slipped 
away and went behind the heavy window curtains. 

She felt quite choked with the new sensation, and 
yet exultant, as if a delightful secret had been told 
her. It was the awakening. Her mother had ut- 
tered the last reproof she would ever have to utter 
on account of the child^s distaste for music. That 
was gone for always, now that she felt, ever so dimly, 
the end from the beginning. 

There was another time of enchantment, too, though 
less distinct — evening-time, when Dr. Brand and his 
wife came over, and it was all noisy and charming ; 
but Betty kept apart behind the curtain, and when 
the magic voices began again, she listened and cried 
delightfully, feeling glad and still sorry that Axel was 
not there to hear ; and so nodded off to sleep in her 
hiding-place. 

She had one or two talks, before the visit w'as con- 
cluded, with the wonderful lady — Miss Gerard, they 
called her. Miss Gerard held the little girl’s hand 
in her own soft palm, and said many things that Betty 
vaguely felt were beautiful, and emphasized them with 
deep, thoughtful eyes, that she knew were beautiful, 
resting earnestly upon her. 

“ Oh, Adeline, if you could only make a musician 
of my child ! ” Mrs. Karlsen said, looking almost 
adoringly at her friend. 

“ It is there,” Miss Gerard answered, touching Betty 
kindly, with the sweetest of grave looks. “ I wish I 
could have her with me for a w'hile ; but you will do 
much for her. Let her come to me in London one 


A GENTLEMAN FROM INDIA. 


31 


of these days — if I live. And, Letitia, do not be 
ambitious for the child ! Be satisfied to let her dis- 
pose of her own life ; she will be happier as the little 
hearth-cricket than as the famous song-bird.” 

“ Indeed, I know that,” Mrs. Karlsen said earn- 
estly. “ I do not wish it otherwise ; and my husband 
— he would not admit the question at all.” 

The music-room was Betty’s favorite haunt after 
those days. Her mother sometimes saw her there, 
leaning on the piano quite immovable and seeming 
to listen, as if some echo waked by Miss Gerard’s 
hands had lost its way and was still struggling among 
the strings. 

They heard regularly once a month from Aunt 
Karlsen, always good reports of Christina’s health 
and acquirements ; among other things, that she im- 
proved steadily in her playing, and was said to exe- 
cute remarkably for her age. 

“ Afte% all, mamma, you will be having two musi- 
cal children, in spite of your discouragements,” said 
Betty, who could afford by this time to touch upon 
the subject of her own performance. 

Christina’s letters arrived generally every few 
weeks ; very well composed, and written on the new- 
est style of note-paper, in a curly foreign- looking 
script, rather difficult to decipher. 

“Christina writes a very clever letter,” her mother 
was apt to say, following the remark with a seemingly 
inconsistent sigh. 

“ I wish I could ever write so well, and so easily I ” 
Betty would add. It was a family habit to make the 


32 


AT DAYBREAK. 


most of their opportunities for commendation of the 
elder Miss Karlsen. With respect to the letters, her 
mother would no doubt have been very willing to ex- 
change some of their cleverness for a little more evi- 
dent affection. But after all, as she said to herself, 
Betty was affectionate child enough to make up in 
a large degree for the beautiful elder sister’s defi- 
ciency. 

People wondered a good deal at the Karlsens’ sur- 
render of Christina so completely into her aunt’s 
hands ; they thought it very strange of the mother in 
particular. Somebody happened to hint this one day 
to Mrs. Karlsen, and felt reproached by the pained 
look that crossed her face. 

“ Christina has her choice,” she said, quietly ; “ it 
is understood that she is to come home directly she 
is disposed. But she enjoys staying in the city, and 
has so many advantages there that we are obliged to 
feel it very fortunate for her. And her aunt is en- 
tirely without family, and finds so much comfort in 
assuming the charge ! Even for my daughter’s sake 
we could not refuse.” 

Aunt Karlsen did indeed delight in the privilege of 
her niece’s company ; and Christina certainly showed 
to much better advantage with her than she had done 
at home. Whether because the child had been pre- 
cocious enough to discern the “ profits involved,” or 
whether because her self-consequent, luxurious nature 
agreed best with an adoring and light-minded rela- 
tive of costly tastes, it was a fact that she had from 
the first taken to Aunt Bertha surprisingly. They 


A GENTLE M A JV FROM INDIA. 


33 


never had disagreements : perhaps because Aunt 
Bertha disliked “ words,” and easily' let her niece 
take her own flowery way. “The sweetest temper 
in the world, if one lets her alone,” she reported 
somewhat ambiguously, to the parents at Lyme. 
Well, that was something, Mrs. Karlsen thought; 
she could recall times when even “ letting alone ” 
seemed to fail in sweetening the temper of the small 
Christina. 

“ She improves, no doubt,” the mother said to 
herself, reflecting on the approach of young-ladyhood 
for her daughter. It seemed an immensely long time 
since Christina was taken away to the city ; and yet 
in all that time, as her mother remembered with a 
little shock, she had only come home once, for a visit 
of a week’s length. 

It was at first tacitly understood that the summer- 
time was most suitable for her trips to Lyme. But 
then there came one excuse after another; first 
Aunt Bertha was going to some delightful Springs 
for the season, and would not hear of sparing her to 
go home ; then, another summer. Aunt Bertha had 
taken a cottage near Lake George, and there would 
not be time to visit Lyme before starting off to get 
“ things ” in order. 

And this very last summer. Aunt Bertha took it 
into her head to set off for Europe at short notice ; 
and in such a case, of course, all other plans were 
subordinated ; and Mr. and Mr. Karlsen went down 
to the city to take leave of the travellers, and again 
to celebrate their return. 


34 


AT DAYBREAK. 


“Yes, your sister is wonderfully grown, and seems 
veiy' much advanced in many things,” her mamma an- 
swered temperately to Betty’s 'eager questionings, 
after the last expedition. “ We wanted to bring her 
home with us for a while ; but your aunt had made 
so many plans and engagements for her that we were 
persuaded to wait a little.” 

Mrs. Karlsen was in her room one day, sitting in 
her low chair with a handful of letters, one of which 
she found unusually absorbing. Betty, glancing in 
at the door, thought how young and rounded her 
mother’s cheek looked as the light touched it bending 
over her page. 

“ Is it you, child ? ” she said, raising her face ; and 
Betty then fancied it looked less young after all, and 
showed a disturbed expression in its eyes. “The 
letter is from Christina — yes ; and she sends love, 
and thanks you for the birthday gifts. — In her sev- 
enteenth year — to think- of it ! ” 

Her mother fell into a musing fit, and looked alter- 
nately out of the window and down at the scented 
sheet of pretty hieroglyphics. 

But the letter was not shown to Betty, and she was 
of opinion that there was something in it of special 
significance. It came out a few days later. Chris- 
tina was engaged, or would like to be — of course 
subject to the family’s approval — to a “ French gen- 
tleman from India,” whose acquaintance she had 
made during the European journey. 

“A French gentleman from India!” little Betty 
exclaimed, wondering. 


A GENTLEMAN EROM INDIA. 35 


“Your aunt appears greatly pleased with the proj- 
ect,” said her mother, whose hands had seemed to 
be overflowing with letters most of the previous week. 

“ Would you like to read what she says about it ? ” 

“I am more than satisfied'^ — (Aunt Karlsen 
wrote) — “as I fancy you will be when you have 
seen dear Mr. Lecomte. His manner is distin- 
guished ; and if a trifle yellow, (Indian climate, my 
dear,) his features are most striking. The name, you 
perceive, is satisfactory, though lacking a title, which 
I regret, for Christina might well have expected as 
much. But, as the dear child says, (with her own 
astonishing forethought,) a title is not always accom- 
panied by such practical adjuncts as Mr. Lecomte 
can offer — this last being a certainty, or I should 
have discouraged the acquaintance at once. He is 
connected with some house somewhere in India, very 
wealthy, — but don’t be alarmed! Christina will not 
have to reside in that frightful climate. Dear Hec- 
tor is too devoted to her complexion to think of such 
a thing. You will see that our charming suitor is 
everything you could desire for a gendre ; I shall send 
him to you this w'eek. — Pray don’t be too much in- 
fluenced by the consideration of Christina’s youth ! 

I was but sixteen myself when I married ; and poor 
Caspar was always satisfied with my age. Hector is 
only thirty-four — a mere infant — etc.., etc." 

“ What does papa say to it ? ” Betty asked, much 
bewildered, putting down the letter. 

That was always the supreme question, which had . 
quite shaken Mrs. Karlsen as she laid it before her 
oracle in the quiet of his dressing-room. 


36 


AT DAYBREAK. 


“ On the M^hole, my dear, how does it strike you ? ” 
she asked, persuasively, settling on the window-seat 
while her husband considered his morning neck-tie. 

“ You really take it in a serious light, do you, Le- 
titia ? I confess I had n’t reached that point myself 
— having always regarded Christina as a baby.” 

“ Approaching seventeen. Many people marry at 
that age.” 

“ Ah. But as to suitability of years — thirty- 
four, indeed ! I like Bertha’s notions of suitability. 
If she calls her Hector an infant, what in conscience 
does she call Christina ? ” 

“ Well, — you know Bertha’s way ! And Christina 
is very mature, dear, for sixteen ; and she is so pe- 
culiar, you know, that I have always felt it would not 
be wise to oppose her in a case like this, provided 
everything promised for her happiness. And thirty- 
four is really not old, particularly for a Frenchman.” 

“ It is evident that you are on their side, Letitia, 
for some inscrutable reason. Well, I don’t say — On 
the whole,” continued Mr. Karlsen, carefully shaping 
his whiskers, “ it is perhaps as well not to give the 
fellow his congd without looking at his references. 
It may be the best arrangement for Christina, after 
all. Her ‘peculiar’ organization, as you term it, 
seems to preclude our making her happy at home. 
In fact, though I ’m extremely obliged to Bertha for 
all her good offices, I see she has alienated the child 
from us to a perfectly surprising degree. Not that 
Christina ever showed us any uncommon affection ; 
still, I would not have believed that a daughter of 


A GENTLEMAN FROM INDIA, 3/ 


mine couldho, so devoid of natural feeling as to prac- 
tically desert her home for the sake of a little extra 
indulgence and gayety ! I confess, my dear, that the . 
fact has very considerably cooled my affection for 
Christina.” 

“Oh John, dear,” protested Mrs. Karlsen, “don’t 
say that ! I could not really blame her for enjoying 
herself so much with Bertha. It is quite natural ; 
what could we expect ? — do remember she is only a 
child ! ” 

“ Yes. I think I mentioned that before, my dear,” 
said John, with a shrewd air, “and I thought you did 
not seem to agree with me. I am glad to find that 
you do.” 

Mrs. Karlsen looked out into the elm-branches, and 
held her peace. 

“ Never mind, Letitia ! ” said her husband, smiling 
at her. “ I have not raised any obstacles yet. We 
will — yes, we will make it a subject of cogitation. 
We will receive the young man, and put him through 
the catechism ; and I dare say Bertha’s estimate is 
fair. She ’s something flighty at times; but I think 
her ‘ weather-eye ’ is clear enough.” 


38 


AT DAYBREAK, 


CHAPTER IV. 

COUNTESS-ELECT. 

M r. LECOMTE arrived at Lyme in the course 
of the week. 

A halo of romance encircled him, to Betty’s curi- 
ous eyes : but to the others he appeared simply an 
agreeable gentleman, rather yellow, as Aunt Bertha 
had intimated ; to whose style and conversation no 
exception could be taken ; and whom Mrs. Karlsen 
soon admitted to be “ excellent form.” He talked 
chiefly in French to his host and hostess, sometimes 
addressing a remark to his prospective little sister in 
rather queer English, with a manner which she thought 
very kind, and a bright glance of his pleasant black 
eyes. 

His short visit seemed altogether satisfactory. 
Betty took observations, in her mute fashion ; and 
decided that he had won his case, which quite suited 
her romantic fancy. She brooded over the marvel of 
Christina’s engagement, trying to recall her impres- 
sions of her sister with as much distinctness as pos- 
sible — which was not perfect distinctness. After 
some time it occurred to her suddenly that engage- 
ments are now and then followed by weddings ; and 
her mind’s eye was at once dazzled by visions of 


CO UNTESS-ELECT. 


39 


splendor and white satin, with peals of music and 
oceans of flowers, all evoked by the gentleman from 
India. 

She ventured to question her mamma. 

How soon will the wedding be, mamma ? ” 

“Oh — not before autumn, I think. Perhaps in 
October.” 

“ Dear me ! what a time to wait! ” But Betty had 
her music for a distraction ; and then there was Axel 
at home for the whole summer, and as nice as ever, 
only that he was beginning to put on a few little 
grown-up airs, rather exasperating. 

The wedding-day was fixed for October. Aunt 
Karlsen was determined, in spite of everything, to 
have the event take place at her house ; it could be 
made so much gayer, she said, and so much more 
convenient for Christina’s society friends. Mr. and 
Mrs. Karlsen finally let her take her own way; and 
it was settled that Christina should come home for 
at least a week during the summer. Mr. Lecomte 
would occupy that time by a short business trip which 
he found unavoidable. 

It was late in August when she came. Betty had 
been spending an afternoon at the Brands’, and Axel 
came home with her “ across lots ” in the evening. 
It was quite dark; they were laughing and splashing 
through the dew, trying to keep in the imperceptible 
path. 

“ There ’s something going on at your house,” Axel 
said, peering through the darkness. 

A carriage ra;tled away down the road, its lamps 


40 


AT DAYBREAK. 


flashing behind the hedges. The house-door stood 
open, letting a stream of light fall sharply upon the 
lions’ backs ; a ser\'ant was going up with portman- 
teau and a load of shawls. 

“ Some one has come, — probably your sister. No, 
I won’t go in now : not till to-morrow morning. Good- 
night,” and Axel touched his cap — a ceremony which 
he always observed, even in the dark — and sprang 
back through the shadows. 

Betty went up the steps, thrilling with expectation. 
They were talking in the music-room ; she pushed 
open the door nervously — 

“Yes, come, Betty — it is your sister, my dear; 
come and make her welcome 1” 

A slender young lady in a long travelling-dress 
raised herself slightly from her chair, smiling and 
holding up her unfastened wrappings. There was a 
languid air about her, as of something rather valua- 
ble, which Betty hesitated to embrace at first, for 
fear of hurting it. But she had a pretty suave man- 
ner, which answered very well for cordiality; and she 
kept Betty’s fingers in her own with quite a gracious 
little pressure for some time after they had all re- 
sumed their seats, close together. 

Betty was astonished at herself for not having re- 
membered how very pretty her sister was. She im- 
proved the opportunity of looking at her while the 
father and mother were getting answers to their nu- 
merous questions ; and decided that Mr. Lecomte’s 
affianced had the most beautiful face she had ever 
seen, in spite of the unremoved travel-wrappings. A 


COUNTESS-ELECT. 


41 


great gray veil was still swathed around her head, 
hiding all her hair in a way that would have been 
fatal to almost any beauty ; but under its folds two 
lovely eyes looked out, large, wonderful, and deep- 
violet in the evening lights. There was not much 
color in her face, perhaps from fatigue ; a small but 
delightful smile visited it now and then; and lightly 
dented its pretty oval. And with all her baby-like 
» freshness of cheek, it was hard to believe that the 
young lady, of manner so “formed ” and graceful, so 
tall and slight of figure, was not well beyond twenty, 
instead of barely seventeen. 

Betty’s admiring survey was soon checked, as her 
sister was taken away to her own apartment for the 
night ; but all through her dreams she was followed 
by violet eyes, and a sweet, searching voice, with a 
faint tremble in it, like the quiver of a harp-string. 

She was up with the doves and chip-birds in the 
morning, wakened by her haste for another sight of 
this astonishing sister. But Miss Christina observed 
Aunt Karlsen’s custom of taking her chocolate be- 
fore rising, and breakfasting at noon when her 
mamma’s household sat down to luncheon ; so that 
Betty spent the morning hours in loitering about 
wistfully till Axel rambled over and assumed his 
favorite post on a lion’s back. 

“ Was it your sister ? ” he asked, as Betty fluttered 
over the^ steps like thistledown, and settled happily 
at his feet. 

“That it was;, — and, oh. Axel, she is so pretty! 
You never saw anything like her, I ’m sure. And 


42 


AT DAYBREAK. 


she has such a sweet voice, — very much like 
mamma’s, only it trembles a little, as if she was 
not very strong. But ^she looks well, though her 
face is pale. And do you know. Axel, I felt just a 
little afraid of her, I did, really ! ” 

“ Afraid ! ” • 

“Yes; but only because she is so — so nice. I 
am very fond of her, but she makes me feel smaller 
than ever. I think really she must be what papa 
calls a polygon of perfection ! ” 

Axel gave a delighted whoop, and sent up his cap 
into the elm-boughs. 

“ Polygon is good ! ” he exclaimed, recklessly. 
“ Did you ever hear of Mrs. Malaprop, Betty ? ” 

“Oh me, what did I say? Wasn’t ‘polygon’ 
right ? ” asked Betty, coloring and wincing. 

“ Your father generally says ‘ paragon.’ Never 
mind! No, no, I wasn’t laughing at you — only at 
Mrs. Malaprop. Tell us about the ‘ polygon.’ 
Does she look engaged 'i Why does n’t she show 
herself ? Is she tall ? ” 

“ Oh, very tall, and very grown-up looking. She 
looks like somebody in a story. And she has such 
eyes — so big and so very dark : I dreamed of them 
all last night.” 

“ Bless me 1 I don’t know but I shall be afraid 
of her myself I Are n’t you going to let a fellow look 
at her ? Why don’t you ask me into the house, you 
uncivil girl ? ” 

“ She has n’t come downstairs yet,” Betty ex- 
plained. “ I have n’t seen her myself, to-day. She 


COUNTESS-ELECT, 43 

doesn’t take her breakfast till twelve — just think; 
and I am dymg with impatience ! ” 

“But what — who is this, then?” demanded Axel, 
slipping off his seat and looking up open-mouthed. 

A most surprising little vision was occupying the 
topmost step ; and now slowly descended, nodding 
at them with gracious airiness. 

“ Why, it is Christina ! ” murmured Betty, staring 
still harder. Yet such a different Christina from the 
tall, pale young lady of the night before ! Here 
was a neat little figure no taller than Betty’s, cos- 
tumed like a large doll in short white skirts and a 
rose-colored jacket ; glittering brown hair tied down 
in a childish curly knot at the back of its neck ; two 
clear eyes as blue as the sea, with pretty flushes 
under them on the smiling cheeks. 

“ Good morning ! ” said Christina, her rosy ribbons 
all fluttering. “ And is this Axel Brand ? I sup- 
posed you would hardly remember me.” And she 
reached down a little hand to Axel, who stood very 
grave, holding his cap, and made one of his grown-up 
bows. Betty took the other hand and stroked it 
shyly. 

“ You look so different this morning, Christina,” 
said she. “ I thought your eyes were dark, and I 
was telling Axel so. And now they are as light as 
mine, and as blue as — as” — 

“ ‘ As the fairy flax,’ ” said Axel unexpectedly, out 
of the Sixth Reader. 

“ Oh, they change,” smiled Christina, twinkling 
them. “ They are chameleon eyes. You ’ll see 
them dark again by and by.” 


44 


AT DAYBREAK, 


“And she said you were very tall,” Axel added. 
“ I don’t know what was the matter with her eyes, 
but you ought to have heard her description of you. 
I thought you must be at least five feet ten, from her 
account.” 

“ It was my dress last night — a long dress always 
makes one look tall, don’t you know ? This short 
one, you see, has just the opposite effect,” said 
Christina, daintily “ toeing out ” with the Frenchiest 
of little silk-wrought slippers. 

The future Mrs. Lecomte possessed the faculty of 
adaptation. Young as she was, she had found out 
that it was much more agreeable in general to be 
agreeable. Very likely she had chosen her juvenile 
make-up as better suited to her young companions 
than a more dignified style, which she would reserve 
for intercourse with their elders. She was also very 
clever at taking people’s measure. Having inspected 
Axel from her chamber-window before descending, 
she felt in rather better humor for doing the agree- 
able ; it struck her that for a boy of fourteen he was 
not so bad — on the whole, might be better worth 
one’s attention than most boys of fourteen. 

So she set about her role of complaisance, and 
played it so well as to make them quite forget for 
the time that she was a young lady in Society, with 
her wedding-day set down for October. Betty’s awe 
of her was entirely dissipated. She circled about 
through the garden with them, looking at their old 
playgrounds ; Betty was in such a state of satisfac- 
tion that she forgot about the grievances and the 
teasings which not seldom took place there. 


COUNTESS-ELECT'. 45 

Christina interested herself in everything, even the 
pigeon-cotes and chippie^’ nests. 

“ I used to throw pebbles at them, like a small 
savage,” she said, looking at Axel. “ Do you re- 
member how furious it used to make you, and how 
you used to storm at me ? ” 

“ I remember that better than anything else about 
you,” replied Axel, with the sincerity of fourteen 
years. He thought she did not look very repentant 
of those early misdeeds. 

Christina laughed a little ; she was more interested 
in Axel than in the birds’ nests. “ He has a very 
nice manner,” she said to herself, “ very gentlemanly ; 
and he is clever, too, for a boy. I shall be quite 
amused, after all.” 

By the time they had idled back to the lilac- 
bushes their conversation was on a very familiar 
footing : they were even talking about Mr. Lecomte 
and the circumstances of his first appearance at 
Lyme. Christina chattered it all over to the others 
with a perfectly matter-of-fact air, as if it were the 
most natural thing in life to be engaged to a French 
gentleman from India, with unknown quantities of 
money. Axel made a pretence of joking about it, 
and began to address her as Countess, by way of a 
quibble on the happy man’s name ; and Betty took it 
up too, after looking in her sister’s face and seeing 
that she was rather amused than vexed at the mock 
title. 

“ I ought to have had it in good earnest,” she said, 
languidly flipping the pink ribbons of her garden- 


46 


AT DAYBREAK. 


hat. “Counts grow on the bushes in the old coun- 
tries, but they ’re not generally worth picking olf. 
We saw countesses by dozens on the Continent — 
such ordinary-looking women, most of them ! I was 
sure / would make a much better one.” 

And then, conscious of a lapse from her first 
simplicity, and with a slight sense that boys of four- 
teen were sometimes precocious enough to pass 
criticisms on older people, the Countess-elect changed 
the subject. 

If her week’s visit at home was not a pleasant one, 
it must have been Christina’s own fault. Everything 
was done that could be done to amuse her. They 
had little garden-parties, driving-parties, riding-par- 
ties ; they went to dine with the Brands, and the 
Brands came to dine with them. On these occasions 
Christina resumed her panoply of long dresses and 
dignity, and seemed to find great enjoyment in meet- 
ing the demands of the toilet. 

Betty waited on her incessantly, and thought her- 
self greatly privileged. It was not for some time 
that, the first dazzle subsiding, she began to wish 
for somewhat closer relations with her sister, and to 
feel doubtful if there was that possibility in Chris- 
tina’s nature. She wondered whether Mr. Hector 
Lecomte had been favored with any glimpse of 
warmer dispositions in the young lady than her 
family had discerned. She talked about him one 
day as she hung on the end of the frilled toilet, 
watching her sister complete the pretty nest of gold- 
brown puffs which was to appear at the Brands’ din- 
ner-table in the evening. 


CO UNTESS-ELECT. 


47 


“I liked him so much, Christina,” she said, finish- 
ing a synopsis of Mr. ^Lecomte’s visit. ‘^He was 
very good to me.” 

“Yes,” said her sister, pondering the effect of a 
green-and-gilt butterfly among . the puffs, “ people 
generally call him very good. I wonder” — dand- 
ling the insect on his spiral to make his wings 
flutter — “ whether this wouldn’t look better in my 
hair than a spray of flowers ? I am so fond of but- 
terflies for ornaments ! If Master Axel were pres- 
ent,” she added, locating the enameled deception, 
“ it would be just his impertinence to say there was 
nothing so appropriate, I suppose. That’s a very 
sharp boy, that Axel ! ” 

“ Axel never means to be impertinent,” said Betty, 
flushing a little and feeling stirred to his defence. 
“ He is very quick and clever, and he says things with- 
out thinking, often.” 

“ Oh, I find no fault with that. I ’m glad he is not 
stupid. He thinks a good deal of himself, one can 
see — not that it’s unreasonable in such a bright, 
nice-looking boy.” 

“Yes, he is that, isn’t he?” said Betty, much 
mollified. But she found herself quite astray from 
the subject of Mr. Lecomte ; and she wanted ex- 
tremely to see some indication that Christina was 
very fond of him. 

“Mr. Lecomte gave me his photograph,” she pur- 
sued, returning to the charge ; “ it is like him, but 
the eyes are not handsome enough. What bright 
ones he has ! Don’t you admire his eyes, Chris- 
tina?” 


48 


AT DAYBREAK. 


Oh, madly,” said Christina, with great calmness, 
giving a final dust of gold-powder to her head out of 
a mysterious little instrument. 

“Aunt Bertha does. I thought perhaps,” said 
Betty innocently, “ it might have been his nice eyes 
that made you fancy him, in the first place.” 

“His beaux yeux 1 les beaux yeux de sa cas- 
sette^' ” — Christina said, turning around with a laugh. 
“ You don’t know Molibre yet, Betty ? No, of course 

— neither do I. What tremendous eyes you have 
got, child ! There, shut them up — never mind about 
the quotation.” 

“ Tell me what it means, Christina dear ! ” 

“ La-la-la-a-a ! ” chirruped Christina, whisking the 
gold-dust from her shoulders. “ It does n’t mean 
anything. No matter what it means. I wonder if 
I can’t have some hot water : it ’s so nice for one’s 
face. Aunt Bertha always uses it; she says it is 
better than fog for the complexion.” 

Betty departed in search of the hot water, with a 
deepened sense of separateness from her sister. “ I 
should be so fond of her, if she would let me,” 
thought the little maid, quite melancholy. “ She is 
kind, but she seems so far away from me, somehow. 
I ’m afraid she does n’t care very much for anybody, 

— not even for poor Mr. Lecomte.” 

She tried to shake off the dull feeling, and to 
be amused by her sister’s gay chatter ; but there was 
a shade of thoughtfulness still on her small face, even 
when they had all crossed the green path to the 
Brands’ cottage, and were tasting the delights of that 


COUNTESS-ELECT, 


49 


enchanted ground. The Brands admired Christina’s 
grace and brightness and charming face ; and showed 
it plainly enough to satisfy the most exacting of 
parents. 

“ Yes, I think we have some reason to be proud of 
our daughters,” said Mr. Karlsen, rather complacently, 
“ in respect at least of their external endowments.” 
He was talking to Dr. Brand in the latter’s study, 
opening toward the garden. There were grape-trel- 
lises in sight, with quantities of ripened clusters. 
The trio of young people had gone out to lighten the 
vines, and the two gentlemen were observing them 
from the great leathern chairs in the low study win- 
dow. 

“ A pretty vista there,” said the Doctor, a smile 
gathering in his dark eyes. 

The children had found a step-ladder in the arbor, 
and put it to use. Christina had insisted on mount- 
ing it to choose the clusters ; she was dressed in faint 
green, and her glistening head nodded about like a 
singular flower among the vine leaves. Axel and 
Betty were below with baskets. 

“ Countess, you look like a katydid up there ! ” 
called Axel mischievously, alluding to her green rai- 
ment; whereat the Countess lost her dignity and 
pelted him wrathfully with grapes. 

“Betty will never be so handsome as her sister,” 
remarked their father, though not appearing to regret 
the fact much. 

“ Christina will make a fine woman,” returned the 
Doctor, critically. “But if you asked my honest 


50 


AT DAYBREAK, 


judgment, as a connoisseur, I should give the prefer- 
ence to little Betty. On account of the type, my 
dear fellow — the race characteristics. They are all 
there — Scandinavia personified! She will grow up 
a regular little Danish lily. I Ve seen a portrait in 
the Rosenborg gallery that she ^s very like — a lady 
of the blood royal, sir. Look at her now,’^ pursued 
the Doctor, with great earnestness ; “ see that little 
face, as clear as a cameo ; see those great eyes, full 
of Northern dreams; and that flaxen hair — which 
my young scamp appears to have designs on at pres- 
ent, the rascal ! ” 

The “Danish lily,” all unconscious of criticism, 
was justifying the title, as she stood up straight and 
slim beside the ladder in her plain white dress. A 
bar of light fell down upon the pale and pure outline 
of her small cheek, still with that thoughtful shade 
lingering upon it. Axel, too, was looking at her ; 
there was a dash of the poetic in him, enough to 
suggest to his boyish mind Beatrice, Marguerite, and 
other familiar blondes of romance. Notwithstand- 
ing which, he was making arrangements, in the back- 
ground, to twitch the innocent yellow braid of “ Scan- 
dinavia personified.” 

Dr. Brand still smiled as he looked on from his 
study window. 

“I am glad,” said he, turning his black eyes with 
a mild twinkle upon his companion, “ I am glad it is 
not little Betty who is promised to the Frenchman.” 


AN EARLY EPISODE, 


SI 


CHAPTER V. 

AN EARLY EPISODE. 

D uring Dr. Brand’s university course in Den- 
mark he had become the richer by two things, 
both of which he was afterwards grateful for — a 
friend and an experience. The one was Max Lind- 
holm, a flaxen-haired, honest soul of a classmate, 
who from their first acquaintance had regarded Brand 
with that painfully warm admiration which is such a 
common fever among collegiaris. The other was 
something not so acceptable at the time, but subse- 
quently classed by the Doctor among the useful les- 
sons of his life. 

In the society which the young men used to fre- 
quent — the cream of Copenhagen society, one may 
be sure — there was a very conspicuous figure of a 
young person around whom the University men, mil- 
itary men, and others were accustomed to dangle. 
Else Oersted was an adopted daughter of one of the 
best families. Her origin was not generally known ; 
it was thought that there was a strain of Zigeuner blood 
in her veins. Her beauty w’as not of the national 
type at least, and she had a pair of extremely fiery 
and singular dark eyes. The Oersteds were very fond 
of her, but she was not universally liked, and had 


52 


AT DAYBREAK. 


in fact the reputation of being a rather dangerous 
girl. 

Brand first met her at a small supper-party, where 
he sat next her at table, and was attracted by her 
lively talk. Late in the evening, as the guests 
dispersed, he was tapped on the arm by a young 
Englishman and fellow-student. 

“ I see,” said the latter, “ you have made the ac- 
quaintance of the Oersted. Let me offer a sugges- 
tion. You will do better to keep away from her. 
She is a witch.” 

“ What ? ” said Brand, staring. Come, you are 
too severe ! I thought her very mild and amiable.” 

“ She is a witch, I tell you. ‘ Mild and amiable ! ’ 
Yes, so it begins. I know what I am talking about, 
Harold. ‘ All ’s fish that comes to her net,’ as the 
vulgar saying runs. I came very near being one of 
the unlucky fish myself, and she played a pretty fly 
for me ; but I saw what it was made of, and got off 
just in time. Now I always want to warn any unsus- 
pecting ones that I see headed that way.” 

“ Thanks, Liston. Your simile is good, and savors 
of a Norway sporting season. But I think I can 
tell a feather fly from a real one generally, and I 
don’t expect any to be played for me.” 

Other people beside the Englishman favored him 
with similar warnings, till Brand began to think they 
were all jealous of him. Perhaps some of them were ; 
but their advice had precisely the .opposite effect to 
what they intended. He began to study Else Oer- 
sted, and to go out of his way for opportunities to 


AN EARLY EPISODE. • 


53 


find out what it might be that made her so dangerous. 
He got into a habit of defending her to her censors, 
and frequently became quite heated with his cham- 
pionship. And the more he defended her, the less 
able was he to see anything objectionable about her. 
He watched her talking to other men in a cool, chaff- 
ing way which suggested a degree of contempt for 
them each and collectively; but when he approached 
she always looked up with a revived air, as though 
saying to herself, “Ah, here at last is one with 
whom one may converse ! ” Her narrow dark eyes 
were capable of expressing a great many things, and 
of intimating that there was much more behind 
which was well worth expressing. 

Young Brand came to the conclusion before long 
that he was the only person who understood her; 
which at once flattered him and explained the com- 
mon attitude toward Miss Else. He was then 
young enough and conceited enough to feel a double 
delight in her apparent appreciation of him. It 
came to its natural climax at last ; and the English- 
man, friendly adviser number one, stood aside and 
shook his head. 

Brand went one late summer day on an excursion 
with some friends to the park of Bernstorff. The 
Oersteds were among the company ; Else was, what- 
ever the other women might say, the most fascinating 
figure among them all. She was dressed in white 
from head to foot ; her eyes were like vivid lines of 
black in her delicately white face. Brand kept a 
constant watch upon the spotless draperies 'as they 


54 


AT DAYBREAK. 


drifted slowly up and down the green paths ; then he 
attached himself more closely to them, and by and 
by — he thought by his own manoeuvre — found 
himself strolling alone with this fair Zealand Sphinx, 
whom nobody but he understood ! 

He was an ardent young man in those days — 
ardent in his love as in his patriotism. Both were 
novelties to him, and he rushed into them headlong. 
Probably the trees of Bernstorff listened to many a 
word that afternoon which Dr. Brand of Lyme village 
would have blushed to own. But then he meant it 
all ; and certainly the Bernstorff beeches never 
shaded a more frantically happy, light-headed and 
hearted young simpleton than Harold with the dark- 
eyed Sphinx in his arms. They talked in the lan- 
guage of the country, and already it was thee and 
thou with them. 

“ Wilt thou forgive me,” he asked her, “ if I con- 
fess that it was curiosity. Else, only curiosity which 
drew me to thee at first ? They were all warning 
and cautioning me ; they were envious probably. So 
I wanted to find out for myself what it was that 
should make Else so fatal to me if I dared go near 
her!” 

“And didst thou?” Else asked in a soft, jesting 
voice, looking up through her black lashes without 
raising her face. “ Didst thou find it out ? Tell 
me, then, what and where it was 1 ” 

“No, that can I not, my soul,” said the young man, 
drawing a great sigh out of the fullness of his joy. 
“Unless it lies here” — and he made the mocking 


AJV EARLY EPISODE. 


55 


eyes close with a light touch of his lips. “ One 
thing they said truly/’ he added, looking away as if 
dazzled by his happiness. “ Thou art a witch 1 
Yes, Liston was right — thou art a witch. What art 
thou looking for, my witch ? ” 

Else had swayed away from him with one of her 
peculiar motions, and knelt in the grass searching it 
with her slight hands. There were some small wild- 
flowers growing around them ; she made a little 
bouquet and tucked it, not into his buttonhole, but 
into his breast-pocket, and pressed it, laughing, 
against his heart. 

“ Is it thy pledge. Else ? ” said he, smiling curi- 
ously. “ It is a frail one. Yet it is sweet, so never 
mind. What wilt thou have for mine ? this ring ?” 

“ Oh, no ; not the ring. That would be too con- 
spicuous : people would recognize it. Something 
small ; something that will not be noticed.” 

“ Not be noticed ? What ! is Else ashamed to 
acknowledge me for her property ? So ! we are to 
make a little mystery of it, are we ? ” said he, in a 
bantering tone, but feeling a shade of disappoint- 
ment. “ Must we have a secret betrothal ? and am 
I to keep everybody in the dark while thy ladyship 
so pleases } ” 

“Ah, do, Harold!” said Else, coaxingly, leaning 
up against his arm. “ I should like it so much 
better, for a while. I have my reasons, of course. 
Thou wilt humor me. And for a pledge, one thing 
does as well as another. See, this little crescent ! ” 
touching a small charm that hung from his watch- 


56 


AT DA YBREAK, 


guard. “ It is flat and light ; I will wear it on a 
chain around my neck, out of sight — as thou wearest 
thy flowers.” 

Harold laughed, kissed the crescent, and laid it in 
her slender palm, and kissed it again as it shone 
there. 

He would have wished to proclaim all through the 
city how he had conquered and won “ the dangerous 
Oersted ; ” but if it pleased her ever so little he 
would hold his tongue until she gave him leave to 
speak. And besides, he reflected comfortably, if his 
Sphinx had her reasons, they were certain to be 
good reasons. 

The next few months formed an epoch in Brand’s 
life, to which he might look back as a reformed 
opium-taker looks back on the first raptures of his 
insanity. Else was his opium. The little cloud of 
mystery which she would fling around their romance 
was not without its charm for him. On the whole, 
she conducted herself with very fair discretion, so 
far as Brand could see ; and if at any time he fancied 
her to be accepting too much homage in their social 
assemblies, he had but to hint his disapproval, and a 
few words or a few looks out of the “ witch-eyes ” 
restored all his confidence in the most delightful 
manner. Undoubtedly the Oersted was a great 
power in her way. 

As winter came down upon Copenhagen, they grew 
gayer than ever in that lively capital. There was a 
business-like round of suppers, balls, theatre-parties, 
and so on ; the students and officers were in highest 


AJV EARLY EPISODE. 


57 


feather. Else was in the midst of it all, quite un- 
moved by feminine cold shoulders so long as she was 
in demand by. the masculine complement of society. 
Brand, of course, followed her about, and was happy, 
except when he saw the slights which she often 
received from ladies in their own circle. 

In December there was to be a brilliant masquer- 
ade at a certain great house in the Amaliegade. 
It was a momentous affair ; all the world of Copen- 
hagen was talking about it. Else was going as a 
Fire-lady. She was so well pleased with her cos- 
tume that she had allowed Harold to examine it; 
she had also appointed his own, which was a sort of 
Ravenswood costume of black velvet with a feathered 
hat. He was hardly less excited over the occasion, 
for he had a hope that after it she would agree to let 
their engagement become publicly known. In this 
hope he had provided himself with a second crescent 
to exchange for the little one she had taken — a 
larger one with a diamond in its centre, and their 
two names engraved on the reverse side. This one 
she would not hide out of sight, thought the happy 
student, as he ran over the lantern-hung doorsteps 
in Amaliegade with his love-token in his pocket. 
Muffled dance-music burst out from the upper rooms ; 
his heart thrilled and thumped in unison with it. 
His head almost flew round, and his feet were quite 
ready to do the same. One dances so lightly at 
twenty-one ! 

He was not long in catching sight of the Fire- 
lady. The flame-colored silk of her dress flashed 


58 


AT DA YBREAK. 


past him almost as he looked in through the crowd- 
ing masks at the door. Indeed, her disguise was 
very ineffectual with every one present : “ the 

Oersted” was betrayed — as always — by her own 
peculiar bearing and the tapageux of her costume. 
But it was a beautiful and most effective one. Its 
orange drapery was rayed all over with flickering 
lines of gold thread, and looped up with ornaments 
like carbuncles, or live coals. A fraise of gold lace 
shot up around her neck in points as of flame ; a 
device of red-gold in the shape of a torchlight 
sprung from the dark hair over her forehead. Her 
long white neck and little pointed chin looked like 
ivory under the black velvet loup. A fan of loose 
yellow feathers, tied with a gold-twisted cord, danced 
about in her fingers. She was a figure palpitating 
with light as she moved ; it seemed almost that one 
might burn his fingers at her. 

“ Do you see that Comet ? ” asked one mask of 
another, within earshot of Harold. 

“ Is it a Comet ? ” said the other ; “ I took it for 
an ambassadress from the Inferno — perhaps Frau 
Lucifer in person.” 

“ Hush, fellow ; it is the Oersted ! ” 

“ Oh ; profound apologies ! ” said the second mask, 
ironically; “ I was not aware ” — 

Harold thought he recognized the voice, and 
glanced around scornfully. “Jealous idiot!” he 
muttered, as he went to take possession of his Else. 

They danced and danced ; the student had never 
been so happy in his life. It was the most brilliant 


AJV EARLY EPISODE. 


59 


of his opium-dreams. He was conscious that his 
demeanor was scarcely in keeping with the suit of 
sables which Else had made him wear ; but he could 
not help it : all the lights of the ballroom seemed to 
have got inside his head. 

“ It is so hot — so hot ! ” said she, panting, after a 
wild galopade. “ Is there no place where one can 
breathe ? Take me out of the crowd : I am stifled ! ” 

He took her away to a small room where the 
music came faintly, and the air was fresh. No one 
was there ; the lamps were few, but the blaze of her 
fantastic toilet seemed to light up the dim place. 

“Water — ice — anything!” said the Fire-lady, 
sinking into a chair. “ I am playing my part too 
well — I shall burn up. Fly, Harold ! ” She loos- 
ened her mask and fanned her face. 

As Harold pushed through the crowd below, a 
blue domino saluted him, with a sign which he recog- 
nized, and took him by the arm. It was a young 
officer from the garrison, widi whom he was on very 
good terms. A sudden whim popped into the stu- 
dent’s head which, in his state of illumination, quite 
delighted him. 

He pulled his friend into a cloak-room. “ Take 
my hat, von Holst,” said he, “and lend me your 
domino, that ’s a good fellow 1 I want to play a 
little trick on somebody, just for a few minutes. 
You ’re so nearly my size : will you oblige me ? ” 

“ Oh, with all the pleasure in life,” returned the 
officer, promptly flying out of his domino. “ Be- 
hold — Canute, King of Denmark! I’ve got an- 


6o 


AT DA YBREAK, 


other mask in my pocket. You see, I Ve been play- 
ing a trick on somebody myself, and have a double 
equipment. I ’ve done with the domino ; you can 
keep it as long as you pleace. Gliick auf^ my boy ! ” 

Harold slipped into the domino, found a goblet of 
water and hurried back to play his trick. 

Else sat in the little room as he had left her, a 
shape of almost diabolic brightness ; her mask lay upon 
her lap ; she made no motion to put it on when the 
blue domino appeared, but looked up with a calm 
acceptance of the fact that her disguise had been 
merely nominal. 

“ Is that water for me. Colonel von Holst ? ” said 
she placidly. 

Harold stood still and wondered. Then he ad- 
vanced and offered her the goblet with a deep bow, 
in military style. 

“ I thought my identity was safe,” said he, imitat- 
ing the officer’s tones as nearly as possible, “ but 
perhaps it is a sorceress who speaks from this daz- 
zling raiment.” 

“You have been betrayed,” returned the Fire-lady, 
smiling. “Your disguise was revealed to me; be- 
sides, your figure, and now your voice, disclose you. 
Canute, King of Denmark, is hidden under that blue 
silk. You see I know. I bribed some one to tell 
me.” 

“ Indeed ! ” said the vicarious von Holst, folding 
his domino more carefully around him. '“I am 
highly honored by such interest. May I presume 
to ask — but first of all, if I am not addressing 


AN EARLY EPISODE, 6l 

Circe the enchantress, is it perhaps the Spirit of the 
Sun ? or a stray Planet ? or ” — 

“ None of these,” said the Oersted, bending slightly 
to hand him the empty ‘goblet, with one of her dark- 
lashed significant glances. “ My mask is off, as you 
see. You are addressing the person who was for- 
merly of much more importance to you than now, if 
one should judge by appearances. But you may not 
possibly recall her name. Colonel von Holst.” 

“ Else ! ” murmured the domino after a pause, in 
a faintly experimental tone. 

“ Ah, you do remember ! It is so long since you 
last made use of it that you might well have forgot- 
ten. It is pleasant to hear it once more from your 
lips. Why have you avoided me, Ernest ? Who 
influenced you ? I have missed you so wretchedly, 
and tried so to see you, that it might be ex- 
plained ” — 

“ Thanks ! ” said a hollow voice from the domino. 

“ What a chilly, cruel word for me ! Do you re- 
fuse to believe that I missed you ? ” 

“ It has been remarked,” returned her companion, 
with a visible effort, “ that you were not likely to 
suffer for companionship. I have understood that 
you were not ill-satisfied with the society of a cer- 
tain person who is present this evening — it is 
hardly necessary to mention the name of Harold 
Brand.” 

“ Ernest ! ” exclaimed the Firedady in an admira- 
ble tone of tender resentment ; “ have the gossips 
devised that, too ? And is it possible that you re- 


62 


AT DAYBREAK. 


peat it to me ? — you, of all human creatures ! and 
can you believe it ? ” 

“ Were you then trifling with him, Else Oersted ? 
called out the domino in a deep, tremulous voice. 
He had ceased to imitate the Colonel’s accent. 

Else turned her head observantly, and did not 
speak. 

Harold pushed back the hood of his disguise, and 
showed her his white face in silence. 

The Oersted surely had a fine command over her- 
self : she changed not a feature, except to laugh just 
perceptibly. “Well,” she said, leaning back with 
magnificent coolness, “what hast thou gained by 
thy little play, Harold ? ” 

The unhappy student nerved himself. “ No, 
Else,” said he, trembling, “ make no pretence ! Do 
not try to make it appear that you recognized me. 
It is too late for that. I shall ask no questions — I 
want none of von Holst’s secrets : he has been my 
friend. But if you can explain your own words, — 
you who have been the life of my life since the par- 
adise-day at Bernstorff, — if you can show me any 
way to retain my faith in you, — do, do. Else ! I will 
believe anything, almost anything, if you can give 
me your honest word to it, and say that we belong, 
still and always, to one another ! ” 

She wore a red-gold armlet hung with many little 
coins; and she tinkled them thoughtfully with her 
finger while he spoke, his voice and eyes full of im- 
ploring tears. 

“ No,” said she, in a soft, indifferent tone ; “ it is 


AJV EARLY EPISODE. 


63 


not worth while. I am tired of you ! What you be- 
lieve is of no particular consequence to me. You 
are not bound — your movements are quite free; I 
do not keep you.” 

The young man felt a singular coldness run through 
all his fibres, as if a breaker had covered him. 
“Not bound — ” he repeated after her. “Then 
you did not at any time intend to marry me ? 

“ Assuredly not.” 

“ And if I ask why ” — 

“ Why ? — Oh, my good friend, you are too dark 
for me ! I, a brunette — Fancy the tableau, and the 
jests of one’s friends. ‘ The Queen of Clubs mar- 
ries the King of Spades!’ Ha, ha, ha I Never! 
I must marry a blond man or nobody.” 

“ Good heavens, what a reason !” cried poor Har- 
old in a derisive agony. “Then why did you have 
anything to do with me ? Why did you make me 
think you cared for me ? ” He felt in his pocket for 
the little pledge of Bernstorff wildflowers, which he 
wore about religiously in a silken envelope. They 
had crumbled there into a fine unsavory dust. 

Else looked at him out of her odd black eyes. 
“ Well, I ’ll tell you that. I heard that you were a 
very rational young man, and very hard to influence. 
One who knew you twitted me, and said I might try 
as I would to win you over, I should try in vain, if 
you were warned by your friends. That was all that 
was needed to make me do my best — with very good 
success, I think.” All the fire-rays on her garments 
seemed to throb and twinkle with wicked delight as 
she spoke. 


64 


AT DAYBREAK. 


“ Ah,” groaned the young man to himself, “ it is 
indeed all over ! ” He opened the envelope and let 
the flower-dust slide out upon her gay drapery. 

“ I am sure,” she said, lifting her eyebrows at • 
it with insolent calm, as she rose to shake it off, “ it 
has done very well : it has lasted out my time.” 

What a strange charm there was about her even 
yet, standing up in all her false, brilliant, impudent 
grace ! A hot wave of despairing anger followed 
the cold one that had just overswept the student. 
He took a step forward and caught her by the 
wrist, blindly, savagely. The little coins dangling 
around her arm bit into it like teeth under his rough 
grasp. 

“ Go away / ” cried Else-, in a scream of passion ; 
and her eyes suddenly gleamed out at him with the 
venom of a basilisk. 

Harold recoiled, looked in her face a moment, and 
rushed from the room. As he went down the stair- 
way he pulled off his domino, and then flung it into a 
corner of the cloak-room. 

The Englishman, passing by the doorway, stopped 
and looked in at him attentively. “ So ! ” said he, 
nodding. “ What did I tell you ? ” 

“ Oh, ravens croak the truth sometimes,” said the 
young man bitterly, wrapping himself in his outer 
cloak. 

“You are indeed a brand snatched from the burn- 
ing,” added the Englishman, with a certain earnest- 
ness under the ill-timed pleasantry. Harold re- 
ceived it with a severe and ghastly hauteur ; but the 
other went on undismayed. 


AJV EARLY EPISODE. 


65 


“Yes, I have kept you in view all this time. I 
said to myself, ‘ sooner or later he will get a hard 
hit ; and as a friend and adviser I shall make a point 
of being on hand to pick him up.’ ” 

“ Greatly obliged,” returned Harold frostily, “ but 
you see I did n’t need picking up.” 

“ No — I see,” said his friend, with great approval. 
“You are made of good stuff, you know. Oh, 
you ’ll be cured, before long.” 

“ I am cured already,” said the student, firmly, 
closing the street-door upon himself and the winter- 
night. 

He forgot about the conveyance in which he had 
come ; it was not unpleasant to battle with the strong 
winds sweeping the Copenhagen streets. The illu- 
mination had died out of his head and heart; life 
was no longer made up all of dancing and loving. 
The oldest Councillor dissembling his podagra 
among the masks and candles that evening felt less 
aged than Harold Brand, struggling over the^ icy 
walks on his homeward road. The chant of a watch- 
man making his round came musically upon the wind. 

“ The black Night hasteth on, 

The Day is drawing nigh.” 

How dimly the street-lanterns burned ! how eerily 
the wind spirits wailed ! The opium-dream was over. 

As Harold paced up and down his room that 
night, he suddenly remembered the jeweled crescent 
he had bought for his Sphinx. He pulled it out 
grimly, and threw it — not out of window, which 


66 


AT DAYBREAK, 


would have been very foolish, but into the farthest 
dark corner. Next day he picked it up again, and 
commenced a practical existence by taking it back 
to the jeweler’s, and exchanging it for divers little 
mementoes to be distributed among his friends when 
he left the city. 

If he had been of a less healthy nature, he might 
have turned cynical after his experience ; but it only 
made him wiser, not sourer. ‘He did not, like some, 
revile the whole feminine garden because he had 
encountered one poisonous flower there ; but he 
wisely took to studying with all his might, went no 
more into society, nor to any place where he should 
meet the Oersteds ; and at the end of another year 
took his degree and left for a “ run ” over the Con- 
^ tinent. He revisited Denmark before going home to 
America ; the Englishman was one of the first to 
meet him there. Brand took special pains to be cor- 
dial with him, remembering that Liston had really 
been most kindly intentioned toward himself, and not 
very warmly thanked therefor. The young doctor 
had recovered completely from his affair with Else 
Oersted, and asked for news of her with the pro- 
foundest serenity and self-possession. 

“ She has done a wonderful thing,” answered Lis- 
ton, laughing. “ She has just espoused your honest 
friend. Max Lindholm.” 

Brand positively gasped, but not on his own ac- 
count. 

“ Is it possible ! ” he exclaimed. “ Pax vobiscum, 
my poor Max ! — but I fear for thee.” And then he 


AN EARLY EPISODE. 


67 


clapped Liston on the shoulder with a shout of 
laughter. “ She has caught a blond one this time,” 
said he, to the other’s perplexity ; “ and the contrast 
will be charming ! ” 

He sent a kind letter of good wishes to his old 
classmate, with a wedding-gift ; and he steamed back 
to America with the friend and the experience thus 
permanently woven together. 

It was not strange that Dr. Brand, with these 
memories in his mind, should look forward anxiously 
to the future of his only son. He saw the boy 
growing up rapidly, a lively and imaginative being, 
of more delicate mould than his father, and with 
rather less strength of will to fortify him in life. 
It would soon be time to set him afloat on the great 
current to steer for himself. How keenly the Doc- 
tor wished, as all parents must, that he might fore- 
ordain the destiny of his boy ; or at least determine 
the influences which should work around him ! 
Neither was it strange that the Doctor, watching the 
sweet promise of womanhood in the face of his 
little favorite, Betty, should found many a pleasant 
fancy on it, and dwell upon it until he had built him- 
self a hope as strong as any he had ever dared enter- 
tain. The fair little Scandinavian-looking girl was 
always very dear to him, and became more and more 
so as she grew up, so mild and maidenly, beside his 
Axel. 

And it was this fancy that softened the Doctor’s 
smile as he looked out upon the young people from 
his study window. 


68 


AT DAYBREAK, 


CHAPTER VI 


THE REVEREND RODERIC MUSGROVE. 

ETTY remembers but little of the few years fol- 



JJ lowing : perhaps because, as she thinks in her 
mature life, there was so little in them worth remem- 
bering. Of all the events, great or small, that may 
have taken place then, but two return to her now 
with any degree of vividness. 

Christina’s marriage first — not so distinct a memory 
as the other, because preceding it by two years. She 
thinks of it now as a whirling, travelling, trunk-pack- 
ing period : of Aunt Karlsen’s house as a grove of 
exotics, haunted by solemn black-faced serving-men ; 
of Aunt Karlsen herself as a gorgeous and hysterical 
figure in much lace and many jewels. Of Christina’s 
face as the quintessence of all known beauty, a 
nucleus of pearl-besprinkled vapor ; of the happy 
Hector as lemon-colored and distinguished, embrac- 
ing everybody in his emotion, and bringing out a 
fine locket for his “ sister Betti ” ; of herself as a 
small factor in the ceremonies, dressed in white, and 
shaken with fears lest she should do something not 
established by precedent. And finally, more whirl- 
ing, travelling, and trunk-packing ; a grand break-up ; 


THE REV. RODERIC MUSGROVE. 69 


and a quiet return to Lyme with the first frost of the 
autumn. 

The second memory — clearer than the first, as 
later — is Axel’s departure ; riot now to school in the 
city, but across seas in the track of his predecessors ; 
to Copenhagen, there to be fitted for the greater 
University of Life. 

That was a partial eclipse of the sunlight in Betty’s 
serene existence. She was passing the quietest of 
little lives in the quietest of little villages, but not 
unvisited by wistful speculations about the outer 
world, of which she had such a brilliant glimpse at 
the wedding-period just mentioned. Axel’s summer 
holidays brought her the little whiff of excitement 
from outside which she looked forward to during the 
quiet winters. She realized sometimes that when he 
was old enough his father’s plans for him would dis- 
turb the happy order of things ; but she had not 
foreseen the revolution that finally took place. 

It was a long time before she could accept the idea. 
Still, when the last adieux had been made, and the 
last dust-wreath had settled behind the coach taking 
Axel to Lyme station, she observ’ed to herself, as she 
had done six years before, retracing her steps under 
the elms : “ I suppose I must learn a lesson of 
patience.” And in a day or two she had her little 
grief quietly tucked away, and was carrying about 
the same bright, simple little countenance as usual, 
over her lessons and music, and her charity visits to 
the poor folks in Lyme village. 

Mrs. Karlsen had been used, in her home near 


70 


AT DAYBREAK. 


London, to such visits as a part of her girlish routine ; 
in her American country home she kept up the cus- 
tom, and taught it to Betty also. The curate in her 
English village used to consider her a ministering 
spirit ; the simple shepherd of the Lyme Baptist flock 
came to regard her in the same light. She was a 
Church-of-England woman, naturally ; but in Lyme 
there was no Episcopal church then — nothing but 
Baptist and Methodist and a little German Reformed 
on the outskirts. 

The Baptist pastor, Mr. Goodwillie, was such a 
pastor as one meets sometimes — but none too often 
even there — in our out-of-the-way country towns ; a 
well of gladness, goodness, and sympathy among his 
parishioners ; and not only among them, but any- 
where when an opportunity offered of helping some- 
body. An innocent, old-fashioned man, unworldly as 
to personal attire, whose cuffs were wont to recede 
shyly from observation ; a college-trained man, but 
from a modest little second-rate Alma Mater, having 
missed the advantage of that wider course whose 
followers have the expensive privilege of unfitting for 
the ministry. 

It was impossible to come in contact with Pastor 
Goodwillie, his people said, and not take a liking to 
him. John Karlsen liked him — whose goodness had 
a much more worldly tinge. Betty liked and admired 
him heartily, and noticed only with respect the 
shining shoulder-blades of his pastoral black coat. 
Doctor Brand liked him too, though on spiritual 
beliefs the Doctor held his peace; truly, what his 


THE REV. RODERIC MUSGROVE. 7 1 


beliefs might be — if any — the Doctor himself may 
have been perplexed to state. And the poor people 
of Lyme liked Pastor Goodwillie ; and many a 
rhapsody about him was poured into Betty’s ears as 
she went around with her little basket, on the weekly 
visits to the cottages. 

Old Mrs. Ricker, who lived away over on the 
eastern edge of the village, beyond the “ German 
Reformed,” — a neuralgic and devout old lady — 
was one of his most emphatic admirers. 

“ He put himself out yesterday, Miss Betty, to go 
away down to Micajahses after my medicine, which 
you know it was the wettest day we’ve had this 
season ; and if ever there was a blessed sperit of 
light a-wearin’ coat and trousers and a-walkin’ visible 
amongst men, it is that Minister Goodwillie ! His 
week-day coat is pretty nigh wore out, I noticed ; and 
I see there warn’t but one button to a side. They 
could n’t ’a’ ben off long, though, for there ain’t a 
woman in Lyme but would ’a’ sewed ’em onto him 
if they’d ’a’ seen it. It’s along of his bein’ a 
batchelder, poor man ! I wish to massy some rich 
woman could get hold of him and look after his 
temporal consarns; for Minister Goodwillie walks 
too much after the sperit to notice whether the 
buttons is on his coat or off it 1 ” 

Thus Mrs. Ricker to sympathizing Betty dishing 
out jelly and other dainties on a stand by her bed- 
side. 

“ And have you heard tell about the new church 
they ’re to have in Lyme, Miss Betty ? There ’s a 


72 


AT DAYBREAK. 


heap of talk about it already. It ’s to be a High 
Church, they tell me ; and Micajah says they ’re 
goin’ about tryin’ to decide on which is the conven- 
ientest hill for buildin’. Micajah expects they ’ll 
make it so steep there can’t none go to it but them 
that rides in carriages a’ Sundays ! It ’s for them 
Episcopal people — some new kink they ’ve taken 
up — but there, how I do talk! Your ma’s an Epis- 
copal by profession, I ’m told.” 

“ Yes,” Betty said. “ But I had not heard about 
a new church. And we shall never leave dear Mr. 
Goodwillie, not even for the Church-of-England ser- 
vice, I am sure.” 

That was only the start of the High-Church move- 
ment ill Lyme. It was not till three years later that 
the pretty stone chapel rose slowly within its belt of 
trees, its gray sides artfully veiled with green, as an 
Old World effect ; its slender cross — as High as 
possible — pointing mutely to the heavens, and yet 
scandalizing the Baptist and Methodist eyes of rustic 
Lyme with its Anglican suggestiveness. A rector must 
further be secured ; a brand-new one, with the best 
references, and a High order of talent. Nothing Low 
was to be tolerated about the new edifice. 

“And we think we have him,” said Mr. Harrod, 
the chief ruler among the Episcopalians, to Mr. Karl- 
sen. “ We think we have him. An Englishman, sir, 
of great talent, who left his parish solely 6n account 
of some slight differences with his people — being 
blessed with more liberal views on various points. 
Incompatibility of tenets, we may say. But a young 


THE REV. RODERIC MUSGROVE, 73 

man of great brilliancy, sir, who will be an acquisi- 
tion to Lyme as well as to the church.” 

“ I congratulate both,” observed Mr. Karlsen, 
placidly. “Though it seems rather unusual, don’t 
you think, for so gifted a man to exile himself for a 
mere variance of opinion ; and to come out — of all 
things ! — to Lyme, and waste his sweetness on us 
outside barbarians ? ” 

“ The living, sir ! ” returned Mr. Harrod, with 
Episcopalian dignity, “ the living which we offer him 
is not unworthy of consideration, even by the Rev. 
Roderic Musgrove. Exile is scarcely the term to 
be applied in this case. The Rev. Mr. Musgrove 
has a vigorous nature, sir, impatient of restriction, 
and drawn by sympathy toward the liberal atmos- 
phere of our country. I have met him ” 

“ Ah ? ” 

— “ Yes, sir, I have met him, at the house of a 
friend in Philadelphia ; and I have been most favor- 
ably impressed. It seems to me perfectly natural 
that he should choose, under the circumstances, to 
take up his residence among American institutions ; 
and I was myself instrumental in securing him to the 
rectorate of St. Agatha’s.” 

“ I trust that the benefit will be mutual,” returned 
Mr. Karlsen gravely. And they walked out amica- 
bly for a look at the sun-tipped cross and spire of 
“ St. Agatha’s.” 

Mr. Harrod’s daughter Rose was one of Betty’s 
few intimates among the Lyme young girls. She was 
bright, decisive, and pretty, a great contrast to Betty 


74 


AT DAYBREAK, 


in appearance ; a year or two older ; with a face all over 
little flushes, like her flowery name, and small hazel 
eyes that lost themselves completely in her cheeks 
when she laughed. She was vivacious, something 
of a chatterbox ; but she had also plenty of common 
sense. 

“ Well, Betty,” said Rose Harrod, as the two girls, 
sauntering off for a spring ramble, caught a glimpse 
of the famous cross in the distance, “ have you heard 
about the Rev. Roderic Musgrove ” 

They were proceeding “landem ” through the thick 
grass of the roadside, with the noble disregard of 
country-bred girls for such possible toads, tarantulas, 
or other reptiles as might there inhabit. 

“Oh, of course,” said Betty, looking for a four- 
leaved clover as she walked ; “ but not so much as I 
should like. Mrs. Ricker has told me more than any- 
one else, and it was very funny to hear her. I sup- 
pose she gathers her items from everybody she meets. 
She is quite shocked at some of them ; but the one 
that seemed to trouble her most was that ‘ he had 
brought a fiddle-case along with him, and she ’d heard 
tell he was going to play on it himself ! ’ She said, 
‘ Landamassy, think o’ Minister Goodwillie a-playin’ 
on a fiddle ! ’ ” 

And Betty laughed out in spite of herself, and then 
looked a little startled. 

“ Well,” Rose said, laughing also, “ it ’s very likely 
he ’ll do more than one thing to shock the old-fash- 
ioned souls in Lyme. I fancy he ’s that kind of a 
man. It is a fact that he brought a violin with him. 


THE REV. RODER/C MUSGROVE. 75 


and I believe he ’s very fond of playing it. After 
all, where ’s the harm "i so long as he does n’t insist 
on playing it in church, which I suppose Mrs. Ricker 
expects him to do.” 

“I — don’t know,” answered conservative Betty, 
slowly. “ Perhaps there is n’t any. I hope there 
is n’t, I ’m sure. But, at any rate, I ’m rather glad 
our Mr. Goodwillie is n’t in the habit of fiddling. I 
don’t think,” she added, with another little laugh, 
“ that our poor people would be quite as well looked 
after — not to speak of the rich ones — if he should 
spend very much of his time in that way.” 

“ Oh well, Mr. Musgrove will make a good rector 
enough, I dare say,” said Rose. “ He ’s very accom- 
plished, papa thinks; and I can say for myself — for 
he dined with us yesterday — he ’s very decidedly 
handsome. JVow you ’re interested, are n’t you ? ” 

“Just as much as before,” returned Betty, walking 
tranquilly, with her eyes fixed on distant St. Agatha’s. 
“I don’t know why his beauty should interest me 
particularly. I shan’t see his face in our pulpit, and 
Mr. Goodwillie’s suits me there well enough.” 

“ Oh well, chicken, I hope you ’ll continue thus 
placid about it. I hope the other girls in Lyme may 
share your indifference : but I don’t suppose there ’s 
one of them that won’t flirt most dizzily with him if 
he allows it.” 

“Flirt!” echoed Betty, lowering her eyes from St. 
Agatha’s upon sinner Rose, with profound incredu- 
lity. With 3. minister / 

“Oh my patience ! ” said Rose, in great amusement. 


76 


AT DAYBREAK. 


“ Are you truly as simple as that ? Of course they 
will ; and if I ’m not mistaken in the man, he ’ll be 
ready enough to let them. And will there be any 
harm in it, if you please ? ” 

“ Are n’t you going up here to get some violets ? ” 
said Betty, who was unaccustomed to this tone in 
relation to clerical gentlemen, and found it a little bit 
shocking. 

They had reached a small break in the eld'jr- 
bushes which fenced the roadside, and now turned 
to make their way in through the branches. 

“Be careful and not break off any,” Betty ob- 
served, softly clearing her muslin skirts. “ It would 
be unlucky. There are spirits in elder-bushes, 
who get very angry if any one hurts them. And 
when people go to gather the berries they should 
always make a prayer to the spirits and ask permis- 
sion. Axel told me.” 

“ Axel Brand ? And who told him all that, 
pray?” 

“The Doctor. It’s a legend in his country. I 
know it is n’t true, so you need n’t begin to laugh at 
me.” 

“ Little goose ! ” said Rose, irrationally, and ap- 
peared to become lost in thought. Rose was eigh- 
teen, and felt a great advantage of years over Betty, 
who counted but sixteen. 

A few steps had brought them from the bewitched 
bushes to a pretty slope, partly shaded by scattering 
trees, where the violets were thickly putting their 
pale-blue heads together. The girls sank down 


THE REV. ROD ERIC MUSGROVE. 77 


here in a comfortable spot under a little maple. 
They could see the road from that point, and were 
at the same time screened from the eyes of chance 
passers. But Rose seemed disinclined to spy after 
such rare objects of interest ; she stared thought- 
fully at Betty, lying opposite, a pretty white figure, 
still childish, calmly filling its hands with violets. 

“ When is Axel Brand coming home ? ” Rose 
inquired suddenly. • 

“ Next year,” answered Betty readily, smiling at 
the prospect. 

“ I know something ! ” proceeded the other young 
lady, after a second’s silence, deep with meaning. 
“ I know why you ’re not particularly interested in 
Mr. Musgrove, and don’t mind whether he ’s nice- 
looking or not ! And why you don’t ever take any 
notice of Jack Leavitt, nor any of his friends from 
Philadelphia! Oh you silly child I You think none 
of them will do after Axel, do you ? None of them 
are worth looking at, are they ? You might as well 
be honest and say so, right out.” 

“ Might as well be honest ? ” repeated Betty, look- 
ing up slowly. 

“ Yes, you might, with me. You know well enough 
you don’t care for any of them half as much as you 
do for that boy in Copenhagen.” 

This point seemed to require very short considera- 
tion on Betty’s part. “Why, no,” said she, with 
tranquillity. “ Naturally, I don’t.” 

“And how do you know what he ’s like now ? ” 
said Rose, arguing it. “ When he comes home it 


78 


AT DAYBREAK. 


will have been five years since you saw him last, and 
he will be grown. And abroad a man grows very 
different from what he would have been at home. I 
am older than you,” she continued, drawing up her 
round chin with dignity, “ and I have seen more of 
the world. You don’t know at all what Axel may 
be like when he comes back ” — 

“ I don’t think Axel will ever be any different,” 
remarked Betty somewhat dreamily, but with per- 
fectly unshaken conviction in her tone. 

“ What a foolish little snipe you are ! ” exclaimed 
Rose. She seemed to have a fondness for ornitho- 
logical epithets. “You were nothing but a baby 
when he went away, and you ’ll have to make his ac- 
quaintance all over again. I should n’t wonder if you 
did n’t like him at all ! ” 

This seemed to amuse Betty very much, though 
she said nothing, and absently fingered open the 
heart of an unhappy violet. 

“ Axel was a nice boy,” Rose admitted ; “ but I 
never could see that as a boy he showed much force 
of character. I should say — having seen a good 
deal of the world — that there were some fine possi- 
bilities in him, but that he would probably be too 
lazy to carry them out. That is how I remember 
him, from five years ago ; and I dare say that when 
he comes home a man you ’ll see the same thing.” 

“ I idealize him, perhaps ; I see him as he might 
be,” said Betty, pursuing with daintily cocked head 
her joint analysis of the flower and her own senti- 
ments. 


THE REV. ROD ERIC MDSGROVE. 79 


“ That would do well enough,” commented Miss 
Rose sensibly, “ if people were more in the habit of 
getting around to what they might be. Until you Ve 
had an opportunity of judging, I think you ’re a little 
goose to idealize him. A man’s possibilities don’t 
count for anything if he lets them slip.” 

Hark ! ” said Betty. “ Who is whistling ? ” 
She did not enjoy her friend’s personalities, and was 
glad of the interruption. 

They craned their heads forward to get a view of 
the whistler, and perceived a masculine shape coming 
along the road at a round pace. It was a young man, 
broad and strong across the shoulders like a wrestler, 
though not very tall ; dressed in an easy “ knock- 
about ” suit of peculiar cut, and balancing a fishing- 
rod upon his shoulder. The smoke of a cigar 
wreathed gaily about his hat as he came along ; but 
now and then he removed that impediment, and let 
his whistle ring out sharp and clear. As he passed 
the elder-bushes, a twig or other trifle lying in the 
road caught his attention ; he stopped to get it, and 
began chipping at it with his pocket-knife, still keep- 
ing up his fragmentary tune. Betty was not ac- 
quainted with the air which he was whistling ; but 
Rose giggled softly at it, and instantly smothered 
the giggle. It was an air from a comic opera then 
very much in vogue. 

He could hardly have heard any sound beyond the 
bushes, but he stopped whistling for a moment and 
looked about as if expecting to see some one. 
Neither house nor man being in sight, he looked 


So 


AT DAYBREAK. 


down again, whistling in a fainter tone ; and pres- 
ently, unconscious of the two nymphs regarding him 
from their covert, moved on with slow steps, still 
working at his twig. 

“ That ’s a stranger,” whispered Betty, peering 
after him. “ He has been after pickerel. What odd 
clothes he wears ! I wonder who it is ! ” 

“ Why,” replied the other nymph, cautiously stifling 
herself with a pocket-handkerchief, “ don’t you see ? 
That ’s the Reverend Roderic Musgroye ! ” 


CHRISTINA COMES HOME, 8 1 


CHAPTER VII. 

CHRISTINA COMES HOME. 

HE Reverend Mr. Musgrove was not long about 



X making himself at home in Lyme. It seemed 
that he could hardly have found it difficult to make 
himself at home anywhere. Socially, he had the gift 
of amusing and seeming amused ; he talked attrac- 
tively and at great length — chiefly in the-form of an- 
ecdote revolving about himself. 

He went to the Karlsens’ of course, in a social 
way. Mrs. Karlsen was pleased to talk about Eng- 
land with him, and to find him familiar with those 
portions of it where she had lived. Betty used to 
say that it was like reading Mr, Trollope: — whose 
works her mother adored — to hear them talking 
about “ shires,” and “ boroughs,” and “ dioceses,” 
and Bishops and Deans, Mr, Musgrove’s father, it 
appeared, had been a Dean. 

Mrs. Karlsen was very gracious with him, though she 
declined to exchange her familiar seat in the Baptist 
house of worship for a more artistically finished one 
in the new chapel. She went now and then to even- 
ing service there, which was more than Betty could 
be persuaded to do. Betty had somehow taken a 
vague and quiet dislike to the young rector : no one 


82 


AT DAYBREAK. 


could tell why, unless she had been imbued with 
Mrs. Ricker’s horror of his secular “ doings.” And 
yet his solid head and handsome shaven face made a 
fine appearance on his surpliced shoulders, bending 
above the praying-desk of St. Agatha’s. Flowers 
were heaped there regularly by the Harrods ; and 
gold-and-purple lights came down from the windows 
and illuminated the rector at his picturesque orisons, 
and the little choir-boys in white gowns. 

Nothing more English in the way of worship could 
have been attained, Mr. Harrod felt with satisfaction. 
The heart in that devout Episcopalian fairly glowed 
as he took his Sabbath view of the little sanctuary — 
of his ladies, sedulously veiled and following the ser- 
vice as it seemed from large crosses with prayer-book 
attachment — and reflected that it was he who had 
planted and fostered this slip of Devotional .^Esthet- 
ics in the midst of uncultured Lyme. 

Betty accompanied her mamma there one Sunday, 
and admired the services and the chorals which had 
resulted from Mr. Musgrove’s careful drilling. But 
she was an old-fashioned maiden in respect of re- 
ligious things ; and so was much worried to find 
herself beset by incongruous visions of cigars and 
fishing-tackle ; while certain strains of an unspiritual 
nature wove themselves into the solemn tones behind 
the pra3fing-desk. Betty was frightened at her own 
irreverence, and carefully kept away from St. Agatha’s 
after that. She felt that it was not Mr. Musgrove’s 
fault if she had caught her first impressions of him, 
unconscious, from the secular side of his nature. 


CHRISTINA COMES HOME. 


83 


The young divine had theories of his own about 
the privileges of the clergy — “emancipated ideas,” 
he liked to call them, in those times when it was less 
the fashion than now for ministers to be as other 
men are. He liked to talk about them a good deal ; 
and made a point of doing so in the early stages of 
an acquaintance. 

“ I hold,” he explained in the Karlsen dining- 
room, “ that it is a clergyman’s duty to strengthen, 
so far as he may, the bonds of natural sympathy be- 
tween himself and his fellow-creatures. This cannot 
be done, you know, by holding aloof from them nor 
by impressing them with a sense of his great supe- 
riority ; but rather by showing that he is capable of 
understanding their weakness, being made like them 
with an animal as well as a spiritual nature. I do 
not admit either that the clerical robe is to cut a man 
off from his enjoyment of the beauties and advan- 
tages which Providence has placed under his hand. 
A clergyman may have his aesthetic feeling as well as 
another man ; does the same Providence order that 
it shall be stifled .? and why ? — It would be false to 
say that my eyes are less susceptible than another 
man’s to beautiful sights, or my ears to harmonious 
sounds ; am I not then disparaging these Divine 
gifts if I shun them because of my calling ? Is it 
anywhere written : ‘ If a man be ordained to the min- 
istry he shall thenceforth abstain from equestrian 
exercise, and the handling of horses ; he shall not 
delight himself in music, except such as his choir 
shall make unto him on the Sabbath ; nor in any de- 


84 


AT DAYBREAK. 


vices for the outward beautification of his life ? ’ 
That is not in my creed, sir. I feel it to be a pitiful 
misapprehension, which I hope some day to see uni- 
versally outgrown. — Ah yes, just a dash of seltzer 
in it, if you ’ll be so good.” 

Mr. Karlsen found this all very frank and very 
reasonable ; and Mrs. Karlsen could see no opening 
for debate. Neither could Betty, listening silently 
over her fruit ; nor could she account for her sudden 
vision of Mr. Goodwillie’s cheery face, which never 
held aloof from anybody, either in sorrow or rejoic- 
ing ; and yet whose brightness never languished for 
want of aesthetic surroundings ; nor could any tinted 
lights from blazoned windows have made it a more 
welcome face to his fond and simple flock. 

Along what separate ways were the “ beautifica- 
tions of life ” scattered for those two men, thought 
Betty. Had Mr. Goodwillie made a mistake ? was 
he overlooking, in the zeal of his busy beneficence, the 
gifts “ which Providence had placed under his hand ? ” 
It occurred to her that those gifts were comparatively 
few, at popular valuation : the Baptist society of 
Lyme being less financially blessed than their High 
Church neighbors. 

Betty kept her comments to herself, though. She 
was shy, in the first place ; and in the second place 
she had such a transcendent respect for Mr. Mus- 
grove’s calling that he might have been twice as dis- 
tasteful without getting a note of her criticism. 
And very soon she had other matter to occupy her 
thoughts. 


CHRISTINA COMES HOME, 


85 


After Christina had gone abroad with her husband, 
the family received letters from her with great regu- 
larity. First from France, where she was oscillating 
between Paris and the country-seat of Hector’s rela- 
tives in Picardy. She and Hector were very gener- 
ous with their riches, and sent from time to time 
boxes of foreign treasure to Betty and the others, 
packed at various points in their travels. Hector 
had taken a wonderful fancy, it seemed, to his little 
sister-in-law, in those short glimpses of her during 
the year of his betrothal. He took special delight in 
hunting out odd embroideries for her, and queer 
silky stuff for gowns, and all sorts of trifles for deco- 
ration, till Betty’s room by-and-by looked like a small 
overstocked museum. 

The several years following they divided between 
France and the rest of the Continent, drifting with 
the seasons from baths to mountains, and from 
mountains to coast, and back and forth in a luxuri- 
ous stir that just suited “ the Countess.” Hector 
liked it, too ; they were undoubtedly made for one 
another. So said Aunt Bertha, her eyes glistening 
with satisfaction as she read her niece’s letters. 
They were very bright and showy letters, full of 
clever descriptions of her halting-places and the birds 
of passage whom she encountered : pages which the 
recipients were always glad to share with their 
friends. The Countess’s letter from Savoy, in June, 
was thought to be a wonder of brilliancy until it was 
susperseded by the letter from the Basses Pyrenees, 
in September. 


86 


AT DAYBREAK. 


“ Christina is getting a great deal of variety,” said 
Aunt Karlsen. 

By way of further variety it appeared at last that 
Hector’s business relations in the East were strongly 
inviting his presence ; and after a time Christina 
wrote that she was getting tired of Europe and had 
concluded to go farther even at the risk of faring 
worse. 

Then came an interval of silence, agreeably 
broken by the arrival of a box from Madras, crammed 
as it were with rainbows and smelling rankly of 
the Orient. The accompanying pages were more 
thickly written than usual, and gave minute accounts 
of everything that had occurred between Paris and 
Madras ; with doleful comments on the climate, and 
long eulogies on a lady’s-maid whom the Countess 
had imported from France, and who was proving 
herself “ absolutely indispensable.” 

Letters came after that with rather less frequency ; 
and by and by there was a long, perplexing silence. 

“ These are French stamps ; and yet I ’m sure this 
is Christina’s writing,” said her mother, wondering 
over the envelope which had just been handed in. 
There could be no question about Christina’s whirl- 
ing capitals, with their uniform air of being out in a 
heavy wind and getting the worst of it. “ She wrote 
from Bombay that they should not get back to France 
this year. What does it mean ? ” 

“Open it and see, mamma,” said Betty, going 
through the room with a dish of crumbs for her par- 


CHRISTINA COMES HOME. 8/ 

rot, whom she was training in expectation of Axel’s 
return. 

“ How-do-you-do-Betty } ” observed the parrot glee- 
fully, catching sight of the crumbs. 

“You naughty bird — no, that is nof what I taught 
you to say ! Not a crumb of cake for you until you 
get it right. Now, what was it I told you ? JVH- 
come ” — 

“ Welcome home ^ Axel .O’ cried the bird exultingly, 
with his eye fastened on the dish. “ Ha, ha ! Give 
it here quick ! welcome home. Axel ! how-do-you- 
do ? ” 

“ He ’ll be here next summer, Polly. That ’s not 
so very long to wait, when he ’s been away four years 
already. Shall we know him, do you think, Polly ? 
will they have to introduce him to us ? or should we 
recognize him half a mile away, you sharp-eyed 
Poll ? ” 

“ Oh, Betty ! ” interrupted her mother’s voice, 
faintly. 

“ What is it, mamma .? Has anything happened ” 

“Yes, oh yes — it’s dreadful!” said Mrs. Karl- 
sen, the paper trembling in her fingers. “ Poor Mr. 
Lecomte — poor Hector — oh my dear, he is dead I 
— he died last March, in Bombay I ” 

A great whirring noise swelled in Betty’s ears : it 
was so sudden. She was not used to fainting, but as 
her eyes dropped vacantly on the parrot again, she 
thought that he was veiled in a blue mist, and that it 
was getting twilight in the room. 

“ How did it happen what was it ? ” she felt her- 


88 


AT DAYBREAK, 


self ask mechanically; and heard her mother’s 
lowered voice answer dreadfully, through the whir- 
ring in her ears — “ malignant fever.” Then she 
became steady again ; and her mother read the letter 
through, and they cried and talked — for though 
they were fond of poor Hector, it was not the kind 
of shock that takes away the need of speech. Yes, 
poor Hector ! And poor Countess, left to travel 
alone through strange countries, in all the first be- 
wilderment of her affliction — “ For she is coming 
home, of course ; home to us. Poor child ! the 
dreadful journey — all by herself — how hard it will 
be for her ! ” her mother said sorrowfully, all her 
tender feelings aroused by the thought of Christina 
in trouble. 

“ But she is so used to travelling, you know,” said 
Betty, taking up her role of comforter. “ And the 
worst of it is over, now she is in France. Will she 
bring that waiting-woman with her, do you think ? ” 

“ Oh no ; the woman is already dismissed. Chris- 
tina must have sailed before this, I should imagine. 
She omitted — poor child ! — to give the name of 
the steamer ; but I think we may look for her within 
two weeks. Your aunt will know ; she will see her 
first.” 

The two weeks passed, and another week; the 
family grew anxious. “ She must be with your aunt 
by this time. I should have thought they would tel- 
egraph.” 

No telegram came ; but one evening, as Betty 
went out into the starlight to take her solitary walk 


CHRISTINA COMES HOME. 89 

under the elms, she heard the long-awaited coach- 
wheels scraping at the gate. 

“ Mamma, mamma ! ” she called back hurriedly, 
flinging open the door for light ; and went running 
down the path. Figures followed her with lamps ; 
she saw the coach-door swing open at the end of the 
dark avenue, and a sweep of black robes dismount- 
ing under the trees. A voice — yes, that was her 
sister’s voice with the old sweet tremolo — was speak- 
ing : 

“ Pray be very careful of that smallest bag ; it ’s my 
bag of essences, and the things are so shockingly brit- 
tle! There, I’ll take it — Ah, Betty, my dear, here 
I am at last ; and such a wreck ! I feel absolutely 
in little fragments I Ah mamma, dear, and papa — 
what a pleasure it is to see you again, after all my 
wanderings ! ” 

And so, for the third time since that strange un 
loving childhood of hers, Christina came home. 


90 


AT DAYBREAK. 


CHAPTER VIIL 

FIRST DAYS OF WIDOWHOOD. 

M amma, she looks remarkably well,” said Betty, 
assisting at the unpacking of boxes next day, 
while the traveller took her afternoon nap. “ She does 
not seem any older ; her face looks quite as bright 
as ever.” 

“ As bright as ever,” assented the mother, smooth- 
ing out some ill-folded lace. “ Surprisingly so. But 
she has such an elastic nature — a great blessing, 
under the circumstances.” 

Betty had felt — and was vexed at herself for feel- 
ing — the old doubt creep up again, whether Chris- 
tina did really care for poor Mr. Lecomte as he must 
have thought that she did. She studied her sister’s 
face as she never had studied it before, trying to detect 
some marks of deep-seated grief under what was pre- 
sumed to be her mask of cheerfulness. It was a mask 
of very natural appearance, Betty thought. Chris- 
tina’s cheeks retained their roundness, her thick hair 
its burnished curl, her figure its pretty youthful 
movements, and her eyes their changeable spark. 
Her mourning outfit was as complete and impressive 
as possible. She put a heavy black seal to her let- 
ters, and had sable tokens upon every article in her 


FIRST BA VS OF WIDOWHOOD. 9 1 


possession ; her wardrobe indicated, in all its details, 
the utmost elegance of despair. Not that she enjoyed 
wearing black, she said, as people often did, because 
it was considered becoming ; she should be very glad 
when she might begin to leave it off. 

The old volatile, childlike manner stayed with her 
still ; and yet in certain moments Betty was startled 
with a sudden sense of her own extreme youth in 
Mrs. Lecomte’s presence. For the most part, how- 
ever, she found herself regarding her sister from an 
almost elderly point of view, and sometimes actually 
accourrting for the young lady’s seeming indifference 
on the ground of immaturity. 

But once in a while she had another glimpse of 
Christina, sitting by herself, quite still, with a curious 
pale, absent look, her blue eyes grown large and pur- 
ple, and. lifted vacantly into space. And Betty felt 
a kind of relief at this, as a sign that the poor de- 
ceased had some tender hold upon the memory of 
his widow. 

“For of course, while I’m sorry as -possible for 
her,” thought conscientious Betty, “ I could n’t bear 
to believe that my sister would marry a man whom 
she did n’t care about, for the sake of his wealth ! 
Nor, if she did care about him once, that she could 
forget him so readily.” 

And as she pondered these things in the stillness 
of her own room, her eye went with a softened glance 
over the walls and brackets, rich with the striped and 
carved and gold-wrought souvenirs of poor Hector. 

She had felt, at first, a little shuddering curiosity 


92 


AT DAYBREAK. 


about the fate of her kind brother-in-law; and as 
Christina was silent upon that theme, she questioned 
her mother, with some hesitation. 

“ I think there is not much to be told about it,” 
Mrs. Karlsen answered. “Your sister seems to avoid 
dwelling on those painful reminiscences, and I un- 
derstand her feeling. She gave me, however, a gen-J 
eral account of the circumstances — all, indeed, that 
I should need to know. He was exposed to the con- 
tagion, as I told you, while travelling up the Gulf 
toward Muscat ; and the symptoms appeared on his 
return to Bombay, where he had left your sister. He 
put himself instantly in charge of physicians, with- 
out — most fortunately — without^ having seen her; 
we should be so thankful for that ! Fancy the poor 
child’s distress ! and all the people in Bombay were so 
alarmed at reports that the disease was approach- 
ing from the north. Her maid was frightened almost 
to illness ; but she stayed there till the last ; and 
then poor Christina made her way back to France as 
soon as possible. It makes me tremble now to think 
of the danger she was in ! ” 

Betty trembled in sympathy, and gave a sigh from 
the bottom of her heart to the memory of the unfor- 
tunate. 

“ But about Tier money affairs, mamma. Of course 
she is well provided for ? ” 

“ Oh, perfectly. Yes, indeed ; Hector had already 
given quite a little fortune into her hands, uncondi- 
tionally. She told me as much as that, of her own 
accord. About his property in France I can’t say ; 


FIRST DAYS OF WIDOWHOOD. 93 


I have not felt like inquiring into such things. But 
her comfort is assured, in any case.” 

Christina seemed to really enjoy being at home 
again, in her own peculiar way, which was not a 
demonstrative one. She was unusually amiable to 
her sister, and evidently felt that the extreme duties 
of affection had been discharged when she had filled 
Betty’s boxes with treasures from her own exhaust- 
less trunks. 

Betty did her best to please and interest her, 
thinking that the change to quiet Lyme was very 
abrupt for a young lady whose recent life had been 
so full of enjoyments. With an idea that charitable 
pursuits were adapted, as a general thing, to persons 
under bereavement, she tried to coax Christina into 
visiting some of her village poor folks ; but it in- 
stantly appeared that such treatment would not 
answer in her sister’s case. 

“ It ’s very nice of you to go looking after the 
poor things, Betty,” Mrs. Lecomte observed, glancing 
at the girl’s well packed rush basket ; “very nice, and 
I hope they appreciate it. But I have n’t a talent 
for that kind of thing, as you have ; and I should n’t 
be of the least use, I ’m very positive. It does 
require a special talent, you know.” 

That was beyond doubt ; and Betty wondered that 
she had n’t thought of it before, as she looked at the 
charming figure in trailing black, its little feet 
propped on cushions, its white hands curled softly 
and helplessly together. Christina’s hands had 
always a peculiarly helpless look, as if made of 


94 


AT DAYBREAK. 


velvet after the finest model, solely to be caressed 
and to display the “ newest style of setting.” 

“ But you will come to church with me to-morrow, 
won’t you, Christina ? I ’m sure you will like Mr. 
Goodwillie.” 

“ Is that the Episcopalian clergyman ? ” inquired 
Christina. “I thought it was another name that 
Miss Harrod mentioned.” 

“Oh, she was talking of Mr. Musgrove. He is 
the rector, — but we don’t attend St. Agatha’s. 
Mamma prefers going to the old Baptist church.” 

“ The Baptist church ! Dear me, how — But 
that is rather extraordinary of mamma. Is St. 
Agatha’s that cunning little church with creepers 
growing up the sides, that Dr. Brand drove us past 
yesterday ? ” 

“Yes, that is Mr. Musgrove’s church. It was Mr. 
Harrod’s enterprise, at the first.” 

“ I am going there,” murmured Christina sleepily. 
“ I always attend the Church service, if possible. 
You had better come with me, I think.” 

Betty was not to be drawn away from her favorite 
pastor, however; though she confessed to liking the 
Church service very much. She persisted for once 
in teasing her sister, until the latter finally compro- 
mised by going half a day to the “ cunning little 
church with creepers,” and the other half — if any- 
where — to the white-walled and green-shuttered 
Baptist sanctuary. The tone of St. Agatha’s seemed, 
after all, better “ adjusted ” to the gracious figure in 
sable which came regularly by and by, with its swift 


FIRST DAYS OF WIDOWHOOD. 95 


bending steps, and went through its devout move- 
ments with such beautiful absorption. 

She sat sometimes with Mrs. Brand, and some- 
times with the Harrods, and after a while selected a 
seat of her own. The gold and purple window- 
lights seemed to find a new point of attraction ; and 
sometimes neglected the ecclesiastical head to come 
shooting down upon the Mary Stuart bonnet, whose 
long veil wrapped its owner’s drooping shoulders so 
gracefully. The ecclesiastical eye sometimes fol- 
lowed the recreant lights, as if trying to account for 
their defection. 

Mr. Musgrove was very fond of society, even in 
its quietest form. His calls at the Karlsens’ had 
always been so frequent that he could not with pro- 
priety make them any more so after Christina came 
home. But he seemed not to find them less agree- 
able since that event. 

“ Every one appears to have a high opinion of him, 
Christina,” said Betty, in a speculative tone. “ Do 
you really like him better than Mr. Goodwillie ? ” 

“ He is much more polished,” Christina said. 
“ Naturally, one would prefer him for one’s regular 
pastor.” And presently, following her peculiar train 
of thought, she observed, with condescension : “ Why 
does n’t Mr. Goodwillie wear cuffs, I wonder ? ” 

“Why, he does,” exclaimed Betty, indignantly. 
“ They do slip up sometimes, to be sure,” she added, 
on reflection. “ He is a little careless about himself, 
I know. But then, one does n’t mind how one’s 
minister dresses, if he ’s good.” 


96 


AT DAYBREAK, 


“ Does n’t one ? ” said Christina. “ Mr. Musgrove 
is very particular about his cuffs.” This merit might 
have covered a multitude of sins, for the fastidious 
Mrs. Lecomte. 

But Mr. Musgrove gave no signs of needing apology 
more than his brethren, unless one should lay that 
charge to his displays of independence which so per- 
plexed the villagers. His secular bearing was that 
of a well-conducted, vigorous young man, as fond of 
jollity as a priest ; with a fine baritone voice and a 
great deal of general knowingness. Mr. Goodwillie, 
indeed, would have made but a plain figure beside 
him in a fashionable drawing-room. 

Mrs. Karlsen always welcomed him in her kindly 
manner. She thought it well to encourage some 
society as a mild and allowable distraction for 
Christina, now that the first half of the mourning 
period was getting toward its end. Her large sitting- 
room and the music-room opening out of it took on 
an unusually populated air of an evening, when 
perhaps Mr. Musgrove stepped in with a book of 
glees under his arm ; and Rose Harrod’s pretty face 
was there, too ; and very often the Brands, quite as 
charming as any younger folks; and Mr. Jack 
Leavitt, pale and romantic of feature, generally sup- 
porting himself with languor upon an end of the 
piano, during Betty’s performances. Jack Leavitt 
was one of the lions of the neighborhood ; an only 
^son with very great expectations, whose nominal pur- 
suit was Law, and who was understood to pursue it 
so very hard during the winter that the whole sum- 


FI/^ST DAYS OF WIDOWHOOD. 97 

iner’s rest was necessary to “ get him on his pins ” 
for a renewal of the pursuit. Whether he ever caught 
it or not his friends considered a matter of minor 
importance, in view of his future possessions. 

He met a great many brilliant girls during his 
winters in the city, but failed to appreciate them on 
comparison with Miss Betty in her rural niche. He 
was a “ nice fellow,’^ and not at all ill-looking ; never- 
theless Betty received all his attentions with a mild 
unconsciousness or an absent good-nature that often 
caused Mr. Leavitt to feel himself the least of 
mortals. 

Christina’s crapes did not cast the slightest shade 
upon the party; perhaps the bright-colored head 
that crowned them offset the gloom of the black 
draperies. And among them all Betty in her white 
dress went about as quietly as moonlight, with a 
frequent smile or hand-pat for Dr. Brand, whose dark 
eyes liked to watch the pleasant innocence of her 
face. He thought oftener now of a Madonna than 
of the royal portrait at Rosenborg, as he looked at 
Betty with her soft hair drawn away from her fore- 
head and tucked behind her ears in yellow plaits. 
That was the way she wore it now ; a pretty way, 
giving a quaint and demure aspect to her small 
head. 

“ And Axel,” mused the Doctor, fragmentarily — 
“ Axel will be here before this time next summer, I 
hope.” 

Which reflection was also passing at the same 
moment, and at many other moments, through his 


98 


AT DAYBREAK. 


Madonna’s flaxen head, though the Doctor was not 
aware of it. 

“The glees went well to-night. Mamma has a 
voice yet,” said Christina, sitting in the candlelight 
with her hair in a curly cascade upon her shoulders, 
when the two sisters had gone up into their room. 
“ And Mr. Musgrove’s is a really splendid baritone. 
As for Jack Leavitt, it’s not of the faintest use his 
trying to sing and keep his eyes pinned on you at. the 
same time. The result is simply painful.” 

“ I could dispense with his trying to do either,” 
said Betty, covering herself likewise with a cascade 
of hair, far-flowing and as devoid of curl as the 
moonbeams. 

“Jack is very nice,” added Christina. “I don’t 
see how you can help liking him when you think 
what a valuable property he ’ll come into, one of 
these days.” 

“Why,” said simple Betty, very much amused, 
“ what difference does that make ? I suppose he 
might be quite disagreeable, and come into his 
property all the same. Not that I think he is, par- 
ticularly. But it does n’t signify to me, either way.” 

“ I know it is not as if you were a poor girl,” pro- 
ceeded the fair reasoner ; “ still I never was in favor 
of disregarding opportunities ; and of course we all 
admit that more money is better than less money. 
And you know the fable of ‘ The Fisherman and the 
little Fish,’ I dare say — moral, ‘ take it ’ is as good 
again as ‘ you shall have it.’ ” 

Betty did not make the application of this prudent 


FIRST DAYS OF WIDOWHOOD. 99 


maxim at once ; when she did it struck her as rather 
coarse, in spite of its classic origin. But it was not 
an unusual thing for Christina to say something that 
jarred a bit on the younger girl’s sensibility. Not- 
withstanding that, Betty admired her very much 
always, and condoned many a little unpleasantness; 
and was beauty-worshipper enough to have pardoned 
worse grievances to such a pair of dark-blue eyes 
and so coaxing a voice. 

There was but one expression ever seen on her 
sister’s face which she did not enjoy ; and that 
appeared but seldom. It was a peculiar smile, which 
raised, one corner of her mouth higher than the other, 
and gave almost a sinister look to her fair face. It 
came sometimes after one of those abstracted fits 
which seized Christina at long intervals ; Betty called 
it privately “ her uneven smile.” She was very glad 
her sister did not use it on common occasions. 

Her chief concern at this time was lest Christina 
should become bored and depressed by the want of 
diversity in their country life. 

“ Are you sure you feel as contented here as you 
could anywhere now, Christina dear ? ” she would 
ask, hanging observantly round her sister, if she 
noticed the distant look coming into her blue eyes. 

Oh, yes, Christina was quite contented ; they 
need not, any of them, worry about her. She 
seemqd, indeed, in perfectly good spirits as a general 
thing, and made herself very charming to all their 
visitors. Aunt Karlsen wrote often and persuasively 
during the winter for her to come to the city ; Chris- 


lOO 


AT DAYBREAK. 


tina sent back persistent thanks and indefinite prom- 
ises. But in the spring she suddenly gave out that 
she had accepted, and would spend a few weeks in 
the city, just to satisfy Aunt Bertha. 

Betty saw in this a confirmation of her fear that 
Christina suffered from monotony. But that was 
not the real reason why the young lady chose to go 
away, just then. It was because Axel Brand was 
coming home next month, and it suited her better to 
be absent on that occasion. 

She had discovered very early that it is pleasanter 
to arrive from abroad and be received by one^s 
friends, the centre of importance, than to help ad- 
minister such welcome from the tame standpoint of 
the stay-at-home. So, as Christina always selected 
for herself the pleasantest experiences, even in the 
minor affairs of life, she packed a little box-trunk 
and gracefully took wing from Lyme. 


MAMSELL, 


lOI 


CHAPTER IX. 


MAMSELL. 


LL around the Danish capital run the “ram- 



ir\. parts ; ” high, well-lined with trees, picturesque, 
and fearfully breezy. It is a very favorite walk with 
the citizens, along the ramparts. It was a favorite 
walk with Axel from the first of his living in Copen- 
hagen. He liked nothing better than to stroll there 
on bright chilly afternoons, past the trees and huge 
windmills ; perhaps thinking sometimes, with a little 
hidden yearning, that the same wind — figuratively 
speaking — that whirled their great sails and tossed 
his brown hair, had tossed his father’s black locks 
in bygone days. 

This same promenade had also been a favorite 
with two other individuals for many a year — for 
something like fifteen years — before Axel ever set 
foot in Denmark. The older of this pair was a 
solid, middle-aged woman, always dressed in the 
manner of North Holland peasantry, with a very 
plain but amiable face under her quaint Friesland 
headgear. Holding by her hand or skirts used to 
trot a little thin, extraordinary-looking girl, whose 
eyes were dark and soft like a rabbit’s, and who had 
a quantity of Albino-white hair that stood out in the 


102 


AT DAYBREAK. 


wind as if she had been electrified. The little girl 
called her companion Sigbrid,” sometimes “Nurse.’^ 
The woman called her charge “ Fredrika,” or 
“ Mamsell Fredrika,” as ordered by the child’s 
mother. Later, when the girl had grown tall and 
walked sedately beside the nurse instead of hanging 
to her fingers, there was no mother at home to insist 
upon the “ Mamsell ; ” and good Sigbrid often 
dropped it in the familiarity of her affection. Fred- 
rika made no protest, for she loved her nurse, even 
more than the mother who had died, and who had 
been well known before her marriage by the name of 
Else Oersted. 

Sigbrid was a peasant from an island close by 
Copenhagen. She always retained the costume of 
her colony, but had become very much improved and 
instructed through living in the Lindholm household. 
She had a busy time of it with her charge, for the 
first years of that little person’s existence. Fredrika 
was a queer combination ; sometimes a wild caper- 
ing thing, crazy for mischief ; again, a sympathetic 
thing, crying dolorously over somebody’s hurt ; very 
often an angry thing, quite ready to scratch or snap 
at offenders. An even-handed justice in the person 
of Sigbrid kept her straight, and saved her many a 
scolding from the sharp-tongued mamma Lindholm. 
Mamsell could always be managed by means of 
stories, and no true Dane ever wanted for those. 

The pair might be seen any pleasant morning, 
taking their familiar walk on the ramparts ; one skip- 
ping, the other plodding in square-toed, solemn en- 


MAMSELL, 


103 


joyment. Fredrika loved to be jostled about by the 
wind ; she loved to stare at the giant windmills, 
mounting guard on the bastions like whirling der- 
vishes of sentinels. She had one naughty habit : if 
passers-by attracted her notice she would tear away 
from her nurse and go flirting along on her toes be- 
hind them, copying their gait and carriage with the 
most ludicrous faithfulness. Sigbrid was always 
equal to these emergencies. She clutched her 
white-haired charge, and while steering her along in 
the proper course, recited to her the following 
ghastly tale, as told by the oldest inhabitant. 

“ When this wall of earth was being built, Mamsell 
Fredrika, this very wall on which we stand, it sud- 
denly began to cave and crumble ; and the more 
they piled up the earth the more it caved and 
crumbled, till they knew not what to do. And they 
went to an old woman who knew everything; and 
she said, ‘ Your mound will never cease to cave and 
crumble until a living child has been buried Under 
it ! ’ So then, Mamsell, they built a little chamber 
of bricks under the earth, and lighted it with 
candles, and trimmed it with flowers, and put in the 
centre a table set out with sugarplums and cakes, 
and toys of every kind, and they placed around it a 
circle of dolls, all beautifully dressed. But they 
left only a small opening for a doorway, just big 
enough for a child to enter. And then the master- 
mason found a little girl, about the age of Mamsell, — 
who had probably run away from her nurse and 
mocked people in the streets — and asked her to 


104 


AT DAYBREAK. 


come with him and see the new babyhouse. So she 
went, and looked in, and was wild with joy, it was so 
beautiful ! and she sat down and forgot everything in 
playing with the dolls, among the flowers and sugar- 
plums. Then the masons took their bricks and 
mortar, and went to work very fast and quietly, and 
filled in the little doorway behind her as she played. 
So after that the mounds went up without any more 
trouble, and grew into these fine walls where we are 
walking.” 

Sigbrid believed this story of the ramparts implic- 
itly, as many of her countrymen do ; and she had a 
peculiar gift for relating such horrid legends. Fred- 
rika always listened to the first of it gaping, with ex- 
pectant shivers running down her back; and when 
the unfortunate infant was securely bricked up, she 
flung herself with a howl into Sigbrid’s ample skirts, 
and was subdued for that day. 

There were two younger brothers in the family, 
Max and little Albert, who were very quick about 
growing old enough to torment their sister. Max 
used to call her “ goblin,” because of her flying white 
hair and sharp face ; his brotherly attentions often 
maddened poor Mamsell until she shrieked herself 
nearly into fits. Then Sigbrid would come to the 
rescue, and take the child away, sometimes — as a 
great treat — to her own home on the Amager Island. 
This was the height of felicity to Fredrika, when she 
found herself crossing the little bridge to Christians- 
havn, and when they came in sight of the settlement 
where everybody wore flaunting skirts and silver or- 


MAMSELL. 


105 


naments and headdresses just like Sigbrid’s. It 
was heavenly to sit and eat apple s-and-milk from 
an earthen bowl with Sigbrid’s people, in one of the 
neat cottages hung over with strings of onions, dried 
fish, and similar decorations ! Nothing could surpass 
this unless it was a cattle-fair ; Mamsell thought if 
she could attend a cattle-fair the summit of pleasure 
would have been reached ! 

When she was twelve years of age she was called 
upon to fill her mother’s empty place. She seemed 
to grow suddenly into a responsible person ; learned 
to manage a household and servants ; and soon made 
her father happier, it is safe to say, than he had yet 
been since marrying “ the Oersted.” She always re- 
mained the same in disposition, of course ; liable to 
sudden freaks ; tempestuous ; both in anger and af- 
fection a perfect child of nature ; naive and unspoiled 
as a peasant-girl. In looks she soon began to im- 
prove : the Albino-hair turned a prettier shade, the 
rabbit-eyes grew smaller and more human-looking, 
and Fredrika was presently pointed out on her walks 
as a beautiful young lady. The brothers observed it 
and became more respectful; Max called her “gob- 
lin” no more. Everything seemed to be growing 
pleasanter and cheerier about the family ; it was al- 
most as if — alas, poor Else ! — as if some malign in- 
fluence had been removed. 

And Fredrika grew and grew, always under the 
devoted care of Sigbrid, and took up her part in the 
gay social life as her mother had done before her. 
But it was a different repute that this young girl bore 


io6 


AT DAYBREAK. 


— when the social voice spoke of her it said : “ she 
is a good girl, and a worthy one ; rather too unre- 
strained and passionate, something of a hoyden, but 
on the whole an innocent and well-deserving girl.” 
And the University men and the garrison men, who 
must have somebody to run after, ran after Fredrika 
as their predecessors ran after the Oersted ; and she 
amused herself simply and heartily with them, hurt- 
ing nobody any more than she could help. Sigbrid, 
who had grown very worldly-wise by this time, often 
smiled, well pleased, to see what a child her young 
mistress remained as she counted year after year 
toward twenty. 

Then Max took his first term at the University, 
and Albert went away to school, so that Sigbrid and 
her mistress had much time to themselves, and made 
things uncommonly pleasant for the young men when 
they came home. It was very early in Max’s first 
year that he made acquaintance with a young Ameri- 
can, or Danish-American — a somewhat homesick 
one, if the truth must be told — named Axel Brand ; 
and brought him home for a visit to his father’s 
house. 

This was an agreeable variation from Axel’s soli- 
tary tramps on the city-walls when he wanted to get 
outside of the University. Although he had been 
brought up to speak the language as naturally as 
English, and the national flag was as familiar to him 
as the stars and stripes — for had he not hoisted and 
lowered it many a time on the roof at home ? — there 
was a great strangeness all about him; and the 


MAMSELL. 107 

change from the quiet nest at Lyme was as sudden 
as complete. 

The senior Max Lindholm was a stout, fatherly 
fellow, with a sweet blue eye which beamed the 
warmest kindness on the second edition of his old 
classmate. He told Axel a great many stories of the 
Doctor at college ; said again and again how fond 
he had been of him ; and begged the young man to 
make himself perfectly at home in the house. Fred- 
rika was very cordial and frolicsome, and made a 
pleasing figure against the background of her lit- 
tle windgw-gardens. It was such a quaint, pretty, 
well-ordered interior, so novel to Axel, and yet so 
homelike. Those flourishing little “ bow-pots,” too, 
reminded him of his mother’s indoor gardening at 
home ; though they were different sorts of flowers, 
rather antiquated and all sweet-scented, except the 
small Dutch tulips that their owner valued so highly. 

Sigbrid, risen from nurse to housekeeper, delighted 
the young man’s eye with her picturesque costume 
and comfortable old face ; he longed to make a 
sketch of her, but was not draughtsman enough to 
do it. He went to a little shop he had seen, where 
they make a specialty of such jewelry as her people 
wore ; and bought a stock of silver chains and orna- 
ments with which he decked out the old lady like an 
idol. Sigbrid laughed heartily, but she was not with- 
out her vanities, and Axel became her prime favorite. 
She smiled on him so broadly ; she repaired to the 
kitchen and stirred him up such extraordinary little 
eel-soups with cherries, and other marvels which 


io8 


AT DA YBREAK. 


would have made his hair stand on end at home, but 
which he took with great readiness here, as local 
coloring. 

Young Max was used to having his friends well 
treated in his father’s house, yet the favor shown to 
this latest guest was rather beyond anything in his 
experience. It was gratifying to him, and on the 
whole he could not wonder at it. They all felt that 
Axel was returning measure for measure when he 
made the house gay with his American songs, or en- 
tertained them for hours about “manners and cus- 
toms in the United States,” all the family sitting 
around him meanwhile in innocent astonishment. 

They did the honors of the city for him in fine 
style. 

“ I know,” Fredrika said, “the Herr Brand is im- 
patient to visit Helsingoer ; it seems to be our Danish 
Mecca for all the strangers that come here. They 
all rush to see Hamlet’s tomb, and the place where 
the ghost walked. Of course, father, we shall take 
him there ? ” 

“ Certainly, my child,” said the senior Max, 
promptly. “ Organize the expedition as soon as 
you please. I will join you, and will even agree to 
personate the ghost for our young friend’s benefit.” 

And they all laughed dutifully, for Papa Lindholm 
was far from being of ghostly proportions. 

“ Hamlet’s tomb,” to be sure, was one of the 
places that Axel most wished to visit, being a Shak- 
sperean bookworm of the very enthusiastic kind. His 
father had often explained to him that his enthusiasm 


MAMSELL, 


109 • 

would be thrown away upon a Hamlet’s tomb” 
constructed by sharp residents to get rid of persist- 
ent tourists. But Axel was resolved to let no such 
impertinent facts interfere with his romantic enjoy- 
ment of the scene. They went up by steamer to 
Helsingoer — better recognized as Elsinore — and 
there dined and passed a night, so as to walk the 
famous platform, like Hamlet’s sentry, by “glimpses 
of the moon.” The fortress-castle of Kronborg, 
built on the very scene of the royal phantom’s prom- 
enades, had risen slowly before their eyes as they 
steamed along the Sound : an object of strange, 
lonesome beauty, with its square brooding towers 
and central spire, in Axel’s fancy a type of the weird 
Northern charm to which he was falling an easy 
victim. But when they descended to it at moonrise 
from their hotel, and stood in its massive shadow, its 
charm seemed to have gained something of the awe- 
some for him. He wished every one of his com- 
panions had stayed behind in the city, so that he 
might take it in more poetically. Fredrika would 
persist in romping, and Max in spouting lines from 
the drama; while Axel pensively moved about 
among the grassy stones of the court, and gazed up 
at the turrets and decorated clock-tower. 

They patrolled the esplanade, and looked over to 
the misty cliffs of Kullcn and the pharos casting its 
warning ray upon the gloomy waters. 

“ ‘ Look^ my lord^ it coines ! ’ ” Max broke out with 
an attitude, as something moved from a dark angle 
into the shining space. 


I lO 


AT DA YBREAK. 


It was merely a stout British tourist, who had 
come like them, with more romance than his outer 
man betrayed, for purposes of moonlight contempla- 
tion. He glared at them in deep offense as they all 
laughed irrepressibly ; and stumbled away haughtily 
toward the Marienlyst hotel. 

“ I would like to skip ydu over that cliff into the 
Sound,” said Axel to young Lindholm. “You are 
spoiling the whole effect; you are perfectly barba- 
rous ! ” 

“ I have been just as bad,” said Fredrika, peni- 
tently. “ It is a shame, when you are getting your 
first impressions of it. Max, behave yourself ! ” 

“ Have n’t we done sentry duty long enough ? ” 
said mischievous Max, turning up the collar of his 
coat with a shiver. “ Which am I, Horatio or Mar- 
cello ? ‘ It is a nipping and an eager air.’ I long 

to get under cover somewhere ; and I believe my 
good father is perishing for a glass of schnapps.” 

“Well, come along, then,” said Axel patiently. 
“ Better schnapps at Marienlyst than sentiment in 
the company of Harlequin ! Come on, giddy young- 
ster ! ” 

They stopped before re-entering the hotel for a 
look at the “ tomb ” with its uncompromising little 
shaft. “ There have been three of them,” Fredrika 
observed ; “ but this is the oldest one, and as the 
guides say, ‘ the most authentic ! ’ ” 

“ Three tombs ! ” said Axel blankly. “ Did he 
take so much room ? Where are the other two ? ” 

“ Well, they say the English visitors dug them up 


MAMSELL. 


Ill 


with their jacknives and carried them off piecemeal 
— I suppose for bric-a-brac. When this is used up 
we shall try to have a better one.” 

“ O Albion, what a guy art thou abroad ! ” ex- 
claimed Axel, with an irate laugh. “ My friends, I 
have had enough of Hamlet for the present. I re- 
quest as a favor that you will not take me to any 
more places with poetic associations. I shall be 
only fit for Tivoli and such frivolous resorts after 
this.” 

But they did take him to many a place with asso- 
ciations, and told him scores of the charming legends 
with which their country is sown, and which have 
been such a valuable stock-in-trade to Mr. Marryatt 
and other travellers. Axel put some of these in his 
home letters occasionally, with rather sparing ac- 
counts of his new friends. He was not a diffuse 
correspondent ; and then perhaps he had, or thought 
he had, a reason for some reserve. Among the other 
legends one had come to him — in a roundabout way, 
as those things do — wherein his father’s name was 
coupled with that of a lady who had afterwards be- 
come the Frue Lindholm, and whose likeness now 
hung in Max’s sleeping room. Older people of the 
city, their memories awakened by the sight of young 
Brand, revived the old gossip about his father, re- 
peating it in their own versions ; and when their 
juniors had learned it by heart it soon reached the 
ears of Axel. He was little surprised at it, but — 
not having lived so long in the world for nothing — 
took it simply as a common experience. He listened 


II2 


AT DAYBREAK. 


curiously to everything that was to be heard about 
Else Oersted, whose strange elfish figure still had a 
vivid existence in the minds of many Copenhageners. 
He disliked her face in the picture. He thought she 
must have had a terribly defective taste not to admire 
his father, but it struck him too as a very fortunate 
thing. Not knowing how much the Doctor had been 
affected by that affair. Axel was not sure that he 
would be pleased to hear of his son’s intimacy in 
this household. The young man knew that there 
was a well-grounded friendship between his father 
and Herr Lindholm ; but he had an idea that it 
would be wise to avoid writing Fredrika’s name too 
often in his letters. 

As for Fredrika, she was quite ignorant of the 
floating gossip She had always been a comfortably 
unromantic young person. The Copenhagen youth 
represented to her so many jolly fantoccini^ with 
various roles to play, and always ready to play 
them for her entertainment. Sigbrid, aware of this, 
left the young lady to manage her own affairs with- 
out interference ; and might have continued to 
rejoice in this security but for a new trick of her 
lively Mamsell. It was something so rare to see 
Fredrika sitting still and engaged with her thoughts, 
that the old housekeeper, having found her thus 
several times, anxiously inquired into it. 

“Why, nothing ails me, Sigbrid,” said the young 
lady, rather pettishly. “ I was only thinking. That 
is no bad sign, I hope.” 

“ But what thoughts can keep my dear Mamsell 


MAMSELL. 


I13 

quiet so long, with such a sad wrinkle between her 
eyebrows ? ” coaxed the guardian, stealing an affec- 
tionate brown hand over Fredrika’s flossy hair. 

“ Oh, I was thinking about Herr Axel, Sigbrid. 
What do you suppose he will do when his studies 
here are finished ? ’’ 

“Naturally, Mamsell, he will be apt to return to 
his home in America.” 

“ Well, I knew that, too. That accounts for the 
wrinkles, Sigbrid. I don’t want him to go.” 

“ Ah, neither do I, Mamsell. Such a kind dispo- 
sition ! Such high spirits, and at the same time so 
gentle ! Oh yes, I shall miss him too, and that 
very much.” 

“ But yet not as I shall, good Sigbrid. He must 
not go ! Help me to keep him ! ” 

“ Well, my Fredrika,” said Sigbrid, jestingly, “ I 
don’t see how we can manage it, unless thou canst 
contrive to marry him.” 

“ Very well ; that’s just what I want to do,” 

“ May the Lord preserve us, Mamsell 1 ” Sigbrid 
murmured, falling into a chair; “thou art not in 
earnest ? ” 

“ Then I never shall be. Don’t act so, nurse I 
For mercy’s sake, am I not old enough to know what 
I want ? ” 

“Ah, my dear child, he is too young 1 Why, reflect 
— he is hardly the age of our Max; and think of the 
difference between you two ! ” 

Fredrika’s temper flew up, and her black eyes 
-snapped through angry tears. 


AT DAYBREAK. 


1 14 

“You don’t care anything for mQ at all. You are 
hatefully unkind, Sigbrid ! ” she exclaimed, jumping 
up and going off to the window with her back to her 
companion. 

Sigbrid sat smoothing her great white apron over 
her knees, trying to be self-contained ; but the sight 
of her dearest crying and tapping disconsolately on 
the pane was too much for her. “ Now, now, my best 
one ! ” she protested, hurrying to put her arms around 
that spoilt young lady. “ Don’t turn away from thy 
Sigbrid. What can I do to please thee ? Tell me 
anything; it shall be done, that it shall I ” 

And so she petted and coaxed, and submitted her 
velvet bodice to be streaked with briny tears, until 
the cloud had passed over, and Fredrika had mopped 
her eyes with some of her silky hair. Then the 
freakish creature, having repentantly rubbed her 
damp cheek over Sigbrid’s brown knuckles, leaned 
up against the window-sash and thought in silence, 
staring at her flowers. 

“The Herr Brand is not betrothed ? ’’-suggested 
the old woman cautiously. 

“No; that can’t be !” flashed out Fredrika. “If • 
I thought so, I should like to choke her ! But I am 
sure he is not. I have heard him speak of a 
little friend at home who grew up with him ; but he 
did not say much about her, and — no, I am quite 
certain there is nothing of the kind.” 

“ Sigbrid ! ” she said by and by, transferring her 
light weight suddenly to the housekeeper’s shoulder. 

“ Dearest Mamsell ? ” 


MAMSELL, 


II5 

“Your people in Amager know so many things — 
Did you never hear of charms to make people fond 
of you ? Something you put in their food or drink, 
you know, at table.” 

“ It seems to me that I have heard stories of such 
things,” Sigbrid answered, doubtfully. 

“ I ’m sure there ought to be,” said Fredrika, with 
simplicity. “ Well, Sigbrid, could n’t you — could n’t 
you find out about it directly, and get me a charm to 
put in the eel-soup when Herr Axel comes again to 
dine } ” 

The old woman gave up at this proposition, and 
laughed until her breath was quite spent, and her 
mistress very near crying again. 

“ Bless thee, my Fredrika ! ” she exclaimed. “ I 
don’t think there is anything of that kind to be had 
of the wisest woman in Amager ! The best charm is 
my Mamsell’s face and eyes — that I know. These 
are thy mother’s eyes, child ; and a strong enough 
charm they used to be in her day ! ” nodded old Sig- 
brid, sighing. 

But Fredrika did not feel much confidence in that 
charm ; and time seemed to show that she was right. 
Axel went merrily on with his course at the Univer- 
sity, making friends everywhere, and yet showing no 
signs of regret as the graduation time approached. 

And at last that was over. Young Brand and 
young Lindholm came off with honors. The latter 
set about making up his mind to the military duties 
which every young Dane must fulfil ; the former pre- 
pared for the brief continental trip which he allowed 


ii6 


AT DA YBREAK. 


himself before starting for home. Fredrika was 
completely wretched, and had barely spirit enough 
left to avoid showing it in the most abject manner. 

“ But I shall not say good-by to him,” she told 
Sigbrid. “ When he comes to take leave, mind — 
1 ’rn ill ! I shan’t see him ; I am not equal to it.” 

She carried out her intention, taking refuge in her 
room when he arrived ; Sigbrid’s fib about her health 
was not far from being truth. Axel was much dis- 
appointed not to exchange good-byes with his lively 
friend. He obtained a rare little Holland tulip, 
which he knew she had long wished for, and sent it 
to her as a farewell token before leaving for Ham- 
burg. Fredrika had hysterics over the tulip, and 
sorely frightened her nurse. 

“ Now,” said she recklessly, thrusting away Sig- 
brid’s tender hands, “ I don’t care what I do ! I 
will marry the Councillor Ekstrom.” 

“ The good angels watch over us ! ” cried Sigbrid, 
dismayed. “ My Mamsell would not lake the old 
Councillor, surely ! ” 

“ Old ! So you do think I am not too old for 
him ? You said I was too old for Herr Brand.” 

“No, no, my dearest; I said the Herr Brand was 
too young for thee ! ” 

But this subtle distinction had no effect on poor 
Mamsell. “ I shall marry the Councillor Ekstrom,” 
she repeated, shutting her rhd eyelids on the world. 

Sigbrid shook her head bodingly; for experi- 
ence had taught her that what Fredrika threatened 
to do was very likely to be done. 


TRAMP PROM COP ENH AGENT II/ 


CHAPTER X. 

“a tramp from COPENHAGEN.” 

H ave you noticed, Betty, what a vivid green 
there is on the grass this summer, and how 
unusually thick the foliage is all about here ? ” 

Mrs. Brand made this remark to Betty as they 
walked by way of the little footpath over to the stone 
cottage. It was morning. Axel was expected in 
the afternoon. 

Betty laughed a sympathetic and playful little 
laugh. 

“ Yes, dear,” said she blithely, “ it is quite remark- 
able ; and to think of its happening so just this 
season, when he is coming ! It is entirely on his 
account, of course — so that when he sees his home 
again, after so many years, it will be wearing its very 
prettiest dress.” 

“ Well, but I really think it is the fact, and you 
may laugh if you choose. Miss,” said the expectant 
mother, turning her smiling eyes around on the rich 
grass and the interlacing branches. “I don’t believe 
it is altogether happiness that makes the face of the 
earth look so bright to me this summer. But no 
doubt it makes me readier to see and to feel. How 
shall I feel, I wonder, when I look at my boy again, 


Ii8 


AT DAYBREAK, 


my little brown-headed boy ? Do you know, my 
dear, in all the pictures he has sent me from abroad, 
his face — even with that big, odd-looking moustache 
— always turns after a minute into the same little 
face that used to look up from my knee but a few 
years since. I think I shall never be able to see 
him in any other way.” 

“ I do not think his eyes can ever change,” said 
Betty; and they passed between the Thorvaldsen 
figures and went into the shady hall of the stone cot- 
tage. 

The Doctor had gone over with his meerschaum 
and his happiness to have a social puff in Mr. Karl- 
sen’s sitting-room, and talk about his boy. Betty 
followed Mrs. Brand over the house, and surveyed 
all the preparations, from the great pot of Japan 
lilies in Axel’s little bow-window to the pantry-shelves 
set out delightfully with dainty things, which Axel’s 
mamma showed in great satisfaction. “He was 
always a bit of an epicure, was my boy ; and these 
are all things that he likes especially well.” 

And then Betty walked home again in the trodden 
path, singing under her breath as she held her light 
skirt up from the dew. She felt so light-hearted ; 
and everything around her had undergone the magic 
change which one feels in a state of high anticipa- 
tion. The soft airs which came puffing through the 
leaves were like airs blown from some other world, 
full of faint reminders as of something long forgot- 
ten. But what had she forgotten ? Surely nothing 
that ever concerned Axel. She recalled the fairy- 


TRAMP FROM COPENHAGENP 1 19 


tales of her childhood ; she remembered “ how the 
Prince came home,” and she said to herself that it 
was exactly the same now as when he came before. 
There was much of the child and the dreamer yet in 
Betty. 

“ I understand how it is that Mrs. Brand sees the 
grass and leaves so bright,” she said, stopping under 
an apple-tree. “ And they look so to me. It is all 
because of the Prince.” She laughed, glancing 
about with a face of gay wonder. “Yet the sky has 
clouded over a trifle. I hope it is not going to rain,” 
she said, listening to the soft chuckle of robins in the 
apple-tree. 

It did not rain, but the. sky kept its steady gray- 
ness all day long. A drop or two fell on Betty’s 
forehead as she slipped out at dusk on the doorsteps 
to look over at the stone cottage. There was not 
much to be seen there, the night was so clouded and 
the darkness of the trees so dense; but she could 
see the lights gleaming through the curtained case- 
ments, and now and then shadows moving briskly 
across. She knew that he was there ; and she re- 
flected that of course they would want him all to 
themselves that night, and that perhaps he would be 
coming “ across lots ” early next morning. So she 
sat contentedly nestling on the step, watching the 
lights and hearing the sleepy hum of the crickets till 
she nearly dropped into a doze. 

Something startled her to her feet presently : a 
shape moved under the trees between her eyes and 
the lights. 


20 


AT DAYBREAK, 


“ What is that ? ” she called out in a startled voice, 
and drew back toward the door. 

“ A tramp, miss ; all the way from Copenhagen,’* 
replied the .shade, advancing hastily. “ What are 
you doing here in the ram, Jomfrtt Betty?” 

And Jomfrii Betty, struck speechless, seized him 
by the hands and burst into a wild and incoherent 
murmur of welcome. 

“ What is going on out here ?” said Mr. Karlsen, 
putting his head through the doorway. “Whom 
have you there, Betty ? Not Axel ! Bless me ! 
come in, come in, my dear boy ! ” 

“ Just for a moment, sir,” Axel said, in his familiar 
voice, shaking hands vigorously. “You are all to 
come and celebrate the Prodigal’s return to-morrow, 
and my mother said I w^as not to spoil the occasion 
by running over here first. But I was impatient to 
see you all. They will be after me in a moment if 
they find me out. Where is Mrs. Karlsen ? ” 

“ Here, dear, here ! ” cried the lady, hurrying into 
the hall. “ How delighted we are to see you. Axel ! 
But I should hardly recognize you if it were not for 
your voice.” 

“ Indeed ? am I so changed ? ” said the young 
man, passing his hand over his heavy moustache 
with a smile. He stood up with rather a grand air 
as he talked to them, and did not seem displeased 
that they found him altered. Betty w^atched him 
with all her eyes ; she thought, indeed, that he was 
greatly changed, and at first she was sorry for it. 
There was a foreign air about his clothes, his man- 


TRAMP PROM COPENHAGEN^ 121 


ner; he had even a little foreign accent, as might 
have been expected. But as he talked, the old looks 
came back by degrees into his face, in spite of the 
big moustache and the dignity ; and there were the 
pleasant brown eyes, just as she remembered them, 
although at considerably greater altitude, and above 
much wider shoulders. 

“And now I must get back,” said he, after a few 
moments more under the hall lamps. “ It is really 
absurd to appear and disappear in this way, like a 
ghost with a pressing engagement. But they claim 
me at home, you know, this evening. You will all 
come to-morrow, mind, for the afternoon.” 

And he descended with a spring into the darkness. 

The return of the Prince had taken place ; and it 
was all over in ten minutes, and Betty was left be- 
wildered and fluttered, and delighted, as though he 
had been indeed a pleasant ghost. 

“The dear boy is looking so well!” said her 
mother, with enthusiasm. “ How strong and tall he 
has grown ! ” 

“A little dandified,” Mr. Karlsen added. “ That ’s 
only natural. But he ’s a fine fellow, and he ’ll get 
over it in time.” 

They held high carnival among themselves next 
day at the stone cottage. 

Mrs. Brand had ordered an astonishing dinner for 
them, and presided over it with her eyes as bright as 
brown diamonds. Dr. Brand followed his son about, 
finding no limit to the questions he wanted to ask on 


122 


AT DAYBREAK. 


the subject of Denmark, and the colleges, and all 
the places thereabout which were so familiar to him 
in his young years. He was living those years over 
in Axel’s stories of the old University and the dear- 
ly-remembered city lying around it. They sat after 
dinner in the library, where the head of Andersen 
was niched ; and Axel told them how he had seen 
the great man, and how he had recognized him 
instantly from the marble face at home, it w^as so 
very like. 

“And did you see the tomb of Thorvaldsen, 
Axel ? ” Betty asked. 

Oh, yes ; he had seen that many a time ; he used 
to like to go there and study the statues and bas- 
reliefs, and see them all standing guard around the 
sleeping head and hands that created them. It was 
a fine idea, a noble idea, that mausoleum. Axel 
thought. Betty noticed a certain earnestness in his 
voice, a flushing of his face as he spoke of Art; and 
she was pleased, for it confirmed her thoughts of 
him. 

“And were you never lonesome, dear, at any 
time ? ” inquired Mrs. Karlsen. “ Did you find 
pleasant society enough to keep you happy ? ” 

“Oh yes ; oh, very pleasant ! No, I was never at 
all lonesome,” said Axel, laughing a little, and glanc- 
ing at his father. 

Dr. Brand laughed, too ; he remembered very well 
what roaring squads of University boys used to take 
their ease in the inns about Copenhagen, when he 
was young, and one of them. 


TRAMP FROM COPENHAGEN: 


123 


“We used to go out of town a good deal — parties 
of us,” said Axel, looking as if he somewhat re- 
gretted those jolly expeditions. A lot of us went 
out to Fanoe once, to see the amber-gatherers. It’s 
an island, you know — barren little place; but we 
made a jolly time of it. It was great fun to see the 
natives scudding about in the sand like long-legged 
spiders — sans-culottes, the boys called them.” 

“ Ah, I remember,” said his father, in great enjoy- 
ment. “ Upon my word, sir, it can’t be more than 
three or four weeks since I was there, myself ! Eh, 
Karlsen ? ’’ 

“ Yes, I suppose the world does n’t wag so rapidly 
in that corner as it does over here,” said Mr. Karl- 
sen, who was listening with a livelier interest than 
common. 

“And Tivoli, sir,” went on Axel, well pleased with 
his office of story-teller: “the prettiest garden in the 
world, I really believe. It puts the Paris gardens to 
the blush, indeed it does. I was there half my time 
in summer. I should like to see Betty at Tivoli, 
staring at the colored arches and illuminations ! It ’s 
a regular fairy garden, Betty, such as we used to 
imagine when we were small. You walk about in 
long avenues, between rainbows of lanterns, with 
fire-works shooting up in the distance, and you hear 
orchestras playing beautifully — and there are bazars 
and little coffee-houses twinkling all over with lamps, 
quite dazzling. And you go along by the canal, and 
there are boats with colored lights gliding up and 
down. How many times I ’ve loafed about that 


124 


AT DAYBREAK, 


canal, of summer nights, watching the pretty colors 
skimming around on the dark water ! ” 

“ How picturesque ! ” exclaimed all the feminine 
listeners, quite enchanted. 

“ Like Venice, I should fancy,” said Mrs. Brand, 
who had been there once on her wedding tour. 

“It is like Venice, rather,” assented Axel. “ Ah, 
yes, I ’m an enthusiast now about the old country. 
My father can’t help being satisfied with me on that 
head ; can you, papa ? Do you remember the Hol- 
stein woods, sir ? how beautiful they are in spring, 
with a shower of green all over the beech-boughs, 
and the cuckoo calling through them here and there } 
Young Lindholm and I — your old friend’s son. sir 
— used to wander about in them by the hour. Lind- 
holm had a little brother at Kiel ; and whenever we 
ran down to see him, we always took a tramp in the 
woods before going back. He had a botanical turn 
of mind, had the young one ; and Max is an ento- 
mologist ; so we used to go mooning about after 
wild-flowers and all sorts of little reptiles, and I 
furnished the poetical selections for the party and 
kept my hands clean.” 

“Just as I used to do with Max Lindholm, thirty 
years ago,” said the Doctor, with a ruminative sigh. 
“ Max’s son ! Is it possible ? Looks like him, no 
doubt. Max was a tall, slight-bodied fellow, with 
fair hair, rather long, and a thin, romantic face ” — 

“ He must have changed a good deal, sir,” said 
Axel, laughing. “ His face is as round as an Alk- 
maar cheese ; and I should n’t like to say how iuuch 


TRAMP from COPENHAGENP 1 25 

he measures around the v/aist. He was tremendously 
good to me on your account, and took me about with 
him everywhere.” 

“No doubt ; no doubt. Old Max ! ” said the Doc- 
tor, gratefully. “ Well I, remember the Holstein 
wild-flowers ! Tell me, my son, did you sometimes 
meet a little creeper, a small bright-blue flower trail- 
ing along under the trees, half out of sight ” — 
Aeren-priis — I know the little blue fellow,” said 
Axel. “ Great pet of Lindholm’s.” 

“And of mine. I used to get bunches of it,” 
murmured the Doctor, with a sly glance at his wife 
— “great bunches of it, to lay at the feet of the 
stately Danish maidens, with whom it was a favorite. 
I recall poetry made on those occasions — ‘eyes 
bluer than the blossoms’ — and so on — in which I 
may have been a trifle extravagant.” 

And little Mrs. Brand’s brown eyes shot a twink- 
ling menace at her husband, as she laughed and 
threatened him with her finger. 

“ ’Tis rather late in the day to try and make me 
jealous,” she nodded over her shoulder, starting to 
look after a tray of chocolate just brought in. 
Betty followed, to help her ; but not a word of the 
hero’s precious converse escaped her ear. 

“Yes, indeed,” Axel was going on, elongating 
himself comfortably in his chair, “ there ’s nothing 
like the flora of those woods ! We generally took a 
basket with us on our tramps, and we seldom came 
back without a load of spoils for the Jomfru Fred- 
rika’s sitting-room.” 


126 


AT DAYBREAK. 


“For — ah — H’m ! yes, to be sure!” observed 
the Doctor, reflectively. “ Max’s daughter. Yes, 1 
remember you mentioned her. Fredrika, eh ? Is 
she pretty, sir ? ” 

“ Uncommonly,” said Axel. “ She is a blonde 
girl, with long, narrow, dark eyes and a great deal of 
light waving hair. One of the Copenhagen belles, 
in fact. She manages her father’s house — and 
himself — admirably; has done so since she was 
twelve years old, when her mother died. She ’s the 
oldest child — several years older than Max. They 
are the souls of hospitality ” — and the young man 
launched off into a long story about some of the 
entertainments which his friends had provided for 
him. 

Betty took it all in as she moved around demurely 
with the chocolate-cups. Her golden hour had sud- 
denly revealed an unexpected alloy. She was quite 
unconscious of it, but from that time on she was 
subject to a vigorous aversion for the type of beauty 
represented by long and narrow dark eyes, in con- 
junction with light waving hair. 

Axel’s narrative slipped off his tongue like thread 
off a reel ; he seemed to be enjoying himself greatly. 
Now it was all about an excursion he had made with 
the Lindholms to a seaside place called Klampen- 
borg. 

“ Most charming watering-place I ever visited, upon 
my word it is 1 Has been called the Trouville of 
the Baltic. We dined there with open windows, and 
the sun blazing down outside like the tropics ; and 


TRAMP FROM COPENHAGEN^ 12/ 

there was the Baltic dancing up and down before us, 
as blue as this saucer. And we had the queerest 
bill of fare you ever saw — would have made your 
hair bristle with amazement, Mr. Karlsen. But the 
ride back by night was something to remember ! 
The moonlight — such moonlight! — looked like frost 
all over the country : it was as still and white — and 
there were we all buried in furs, after that hot day — 
I had my immense shaggy coat, you know, with the 
collar ; for the mercury had dropped away down to 
nowhere. That ’s the way it does, in our dear Den- 
mark springtime. You broil at noonday and you 
freeze at midnight — hey, papa? I remember 
Jomfru Fredrika insisted on riding backward, to 
let the moon shine in her face. And when we drove 
into the Dyrehaave (that’s the royal deer-preserve, 
you know) it was like going through an eiichanted 
wood. We could hear all sorts of mysterious 
noises — rustlings and patterings of phantom feet; 
and then off under the trees we would see troops of 
shadows rushing away like frightened spirits. It was 
the deer flying from the sound of our wheels.” 

And so on, and so on, to the accompaniment of 
tinkling spoons and porcelain. Sir Lancelot returned 
from his adventures could have had no more absorbed 
and admiring listeners than Sir Axel reviewing hi<5 
student-life and travels. 

Betty said hardly a word all the evening. There 
seemed no occasion for saying anything, it was so 
complete and satisfactory, such a wonderful realiza- 
tion of a five years’ dream — a fluent, handsome, easy, 


128 


AT DAYBREAK. 


six-foot realization, positively sitting right before her 
in the Doctor’s biggek chair, and moving its brown 
eyes complacently around the ring of attentive faces. 

“ My dear Axel,” said Mrs. Karlsen at last, 
glancing at the clock-face with a start, you know 
we could listen to you all night, I ’m sure, if you 
chose to talk ” — 

“The fact is, we have pretty nearly done that 
already,” her husband struck in, breaking the circle. 
“ Let me take my family home. Doctor, before the 
boy is quite exhausted.” 

And in a few moments they were out under the 
trees in the dark, whispering night, with a lantern 
flinging its rays along the moist well-trodden little 
path. Axel went on ahead of the others by Betty’s 
side, swinging the lantern. 

“ The. old path is wider than it used to be,” said 
he, lighting it up. “Have the gardeners been at 
it?” 

“Oh, no. I suppose we have trodden it wider, 
your mother and I — going back and forth to chat 
about you.” 

“ So ? Been talking me over steadily for five 
years, have you ? ” 

“ We had nothing better to do, we stay-at-homes, 
you know,” said Betty, gaily. She was delightfully 
happy — as a small child to whom the promise of a 
day’s picnic is as good as the promise of picnics 
without end. She glanced up, with a thrill of satis- 
faction, at the familiar brown head moving along with 
its chin in the air. What if he walked — as he un- 


TRAMP FROM COPENHAGEN^ 1 29 


doubtedly did — with a slight air of condescension 
to the requirements of gravitation ? If anybody had 
the right to carry his head high it was certainly 
Axel ! 

She ran up to her room after they had made 
their good-nights, and looked out of her window to 
watch the lantern go bobbing and winking back be- 
tween the trees and finally disappear with a swoop. 
She heard shutting and barring of doors in the stone 
cottage ; and presently a light twinkled out from the 
little upper casement where the Japan lilies had 
been placed. She looked at that for some time, with 
great contentment. 

Then by-and-by a curious picture passed before 
her eyes, like a view in a magic-lantern. A wood, 
and a flying wagon with four muffled people in it ; 
shadowy troops of forest-creatures wheeling away in 
alarm. A white, beautiful face leaning from its nest 
of furs, with hair tossed and silvery in the moon- 
beams that fell down through the branches. Then 
the slide closed; and there was simply darkness, 
with the little candle-ray across which an elm-tree 
now and then waved an intercepting arm. 

“The Atlantic Ocean,” murmured Betty, reviving 
some buried items of geographical wisdom as she let 
down the curtain — “the Atlantic Ocgan measures 
about four thousand miles across at its widest point, 
and about nine hundred at its narrowest. And he is 
on this side of it at present.” 

This thought appeared to give her great pleasure 


130 


AT DA YBREAIC. 


as she settled her yellow head into the pillow, be- 
fore returning in dreams to the moonlit Deer-forest. 

But Axel, sniffing aesthetically at the lilies as he 
worked off his boots, was not thinking of Fredrika 
Lindholm, nor indeed of any young person of her 
sex. His thoughts were dwelling with tender per- 
sistence on a certain made-dish which would have 
fitted into that dinner to a T ; and he was wondering 
if he could remember enough about its composition 
to impart the secret to his mother’s cook. 


HA LF-MO UR N/NG. 


131 


CHAPTER XI. 

HALF-MOURNING. 

B etty did not find it difficult to get accustomed 
to the new happiness of Axel’s society. It was 
well that she considered it^a happiness, since the 
young gentleman gave her so much of it. As he 
said with beautiful frankness, there was nowhere else 
in town for a fellow to go — which was not literally 
true, but meant that there was little congeniality for 
him in most of the neighboring houses. Not that he 
began to get bored at home ; on the contrary he was 
enjoying it immensely, for he dearly loved his ease, 
and here at least all things were subject unto him. 

He divided his time quite impartially between the 
two houses. If Betty went down to the village on 
errands, she was apt to be met on re-entering by a 
gust of the peculiar fragrance which Axel was fond 
of using, blended with the fumes of a very extrava- 
gant cigar. Following the scent she was sure of 
coming upon the young man either stretched in her 
father’s reading-chair exploring a new volume, or 
prone upon a lounge in' the music-room, putting the 
parrot through its exercises. 

“Oh, here is our distinguished foreigner !” said 


132 


AT DAYBREAK, 


she in agreeable surprise, on the first occasion of 
finding him installed there. 

“ Here he is, sure enough ; quite k la Don Cdsar, 
you see.” 

“ Who was that, please ? ” said Betty, dropping olf 
her hat, and sitting down as one whose last wish is 
fulfilled. 

“ Oh, an interesting young fellow who had a way 
of sliding into people’s houses while the family were 
out, and making himself at home. No objection to 
the smoke, Jomfru ? ” 

“ Oh no ; there is plenty of that here all the time. 
It is very pleasant to have you running in without 
ceremony, just as you used.” 

“ Much obliged, skoenne Fruken ! This lounge is 
a new acquaintance, is n’t it ? Awfully enticing one, 
too,” said the young man, with an appreciative twist 
of his solid frame. 

“ Why do you call me by dreadful foreign names ? 
Pray don’t ! ” said Betty : “ you know I can’t under- 
stand them. — Haven’t you grown up to be very 
lazy. Axel ? It is so fine out-of-doors. I have 
walked four miles since breakfast.” 

“Amazing girl ! Oh yes, I am very lazy,” agreed 
Axel, with a great ha-ha of amusement. “You are 
going to encourage me in it, too. You are going to 
sit down at that piano and perform the most soothing 
movement you can think of, while I relapse into gen- 
tle slumbers” — 

“ Nothing of the kind ! ” returned Betty with spirit. 
“ If you are in such an exhausted condition, you will 


HALF-MOURNING, 1 33 

be better off at the stone cottage. Your mother has 
early dinner to-day, on the Doctor’s account.” 

“ I dine here this afternoon, thanks,” observed 
Axel, shaking up the sofa pillow. “ Early dinners 
are detestable. — Come, are you going to play for 
me I have n’t heard a sample of your proficiency 
yet, you know.” 

“ And yet you propose going to sleep over it ! ” 
said Betty, reproachfully, although she was drawing 
near the piano with her usual submission. She was 
ready to play Axel to sleep if he desired it, exactly 
as she had been ready to act as sun-screen for his 
little lordship’s eyes, in the birchwood of their child- 
ish rambles. 

Axel lay and watched her with curiosity as she 
played. He continued to stare at her when she had 
ceased and was waiting, a little embarrassed, for his 
word of comment. 

“Thanks,” said he, after a short pause, which 
Betty considered odd ; and he gave her a quite an- 
gelic smile across the rings of smoke. “ Do you say 
you have studied at home here all the time ? not in 
the city at all ? ” 

“Not at all — not with anybody except mamma.” 

“ And have you heard no great artists play, — no 
professionals ? ” 

“ Only Miss Gerard, some years ago.” 

“ Only Miss Gerard ! You don’t mean the great 
pianist, Adeline Gerard, who died last year ? Where 
did you hear her, pray ? ” 

“ She was here, making us a little visit. She was 


134 


AT DAYBREAK. 


a great friend of mamma’s, and came all the way 
from London chiefly to see her. Oh, how she played 
to us ! — I did not care much about my music before 
that ; but since then I have cared about nothing so 
much. I might have gone to study with her in Lon- 
don, if she had lived. She asked to have me then, 
but I was too small ; and she was already out of 
health, mamma says. Yes, I am sure mamma would 
have let me go to London. And then, only think, 
what a fine performer I might have made ! ” 

“ Only think ! ” echoed Axel, solemnly. “ Well, 
go on, if you please.” 

“ Ah, you should hear Christina play,” said Betty, 
her slim fingers coaxing little twirls of melody from 
the keys. “ She can do wonderful things with her 
hands.” 

“ I dare say. But in default of Christina, one must 
put up with her little sister for a while. Come, an 
adagio now, F7‘uken I pray you, let me dream again.” 

Betty considered a moment, and then with a roguish 
face began the “ Farewell ” sonata dedicated by the 
master to his great pupil. Archduke Rudolph. Her 
face lost its roguish look long before the “farewell ” 
was over ; she was following out a bit of her own 
story in the notes as they crept sighingly through the 
“ absence,” and ran with a joyous crash into the “ re- 
turn.” There was a pink spot on each cheek as her 
little hands sprung like steel upon the final chords. 

Axel had not gone to sleep as yet. On the con- 
trary, he rose upon his elbow and applauded quite 
forcibly. 


HALF-MOURNING. 


135 


“ Good, Betty ! ” said he, lying back with that 
appreciative smile of his. “ A favorite of mine. By 
the way, what picture does it remind you of, let me 
ask ? ” 

“ That German picture — I don’t know its name ” 
— answered Betty, promptly, “of the boy starting 
away from home, with his mother and father watch- 
ing in the doorway, and the little girl left behind by 
the flight of steps, to spin. Aunt Bertha has the 
photograph of it in her sitting-room. And the other 
one, too, where the boy comes home, grown very tall, 
and surprises his family ” 

— “ And gets surprised himself when he sees how 
persistently the little spinning-girl has been growing 
up all that time,” Axel added, with a mischievous 
look at the reedy young figure standing up straight 
and fair by her piano. “ Good again ! I ’ll get you 
copies of the pictures at Christmas, if I don’t forget 
it, for being so clever ! ” 

“ Will you really. Axel ? How very, very nice of 
you ! ” cried delighted Betty. 

“ If I don’t forget it,” repeated the young man, 
thinking that very likely he might. 

But the promise of the pictures was not nearly so 
important to Betty as- the hint that he considered her 
clever, and that he seemed to approve her playing. 
Enrapturing as that was, her sensitive conscience 
began to take alarm lest she had kept too quiet about 
Christina’s talent ; and she fell to praising her sis- 
ter’s performances in the most glowing manner. 

“Yes, I am anxious to hear her,” said Axel, with- 


AT DAYBREAK. 


136 

out revealing any immoderate ardor for the event. 
“ When do you say she will return from the city ? ” 

‘‘ Next week, she promised mamma.” 

When Christina did come, it was full tv/o w^eeks 
later than she had promised ; but that was her fash- 
ion. ^‘One must not cheapen one’s self by always 
arriving on the tick of the clock,” was a saying of 
hers. 

She came home in good spirits, seeming quite 
brightened and improved by the short absence, and 
evidently pleased at the family demonstrations over 
her return. They all made much of her, and were 
glad to see her looking so well and spirited. She 
brought with her an extra trunk of new raiment — 
“ half-mourning,” or, as one might say, three-eighths- 
mourning garments. Betty remarked a piece of silk 
of ravishing lilac hue interred in the heart of this 
trunk; also a box of French violets for house-wear 
tumbled suggestively into her exploring hands. 

“ Those are for by-and-by,” said Christina, uncurl- 
ing herself on her morning pillow and looking out 
like a bright-headed flower. “ Are n’t they nice ? It 
is a //Atle too soon for them yet ; but one can wear 
white gowns, and I have no end of black ribbons and 
jet things in that tray.” 

“ I am glad you are so well and cheerful again, 
Christina,” said Betty, tucking back the violets. “ You 
will be in good case to play for us, I see. I am eager 
to hear you again, and so is Axel. I have told him 
so much about your playing.” 

“ Axel .? Oh yes, surely. He is at home now, I 


HALF-MOURNING. 


137 


remember you said,’’ observed Christina, who had 
been thinking about nothing else for a day or two. 

Her recollections of the boy she knew half-a-dozen 
or more years before were quite interesting ; and she 
judged that by this time he would have grown into a 
clever if ingenuous young man, who would have been 
polished off by his foreign life in a way to make up 
for his immature age. She promised herself the 
pleasure of reducing the immature young man to a 
state of servile admiration, which would put a dash 
of spice into her rather flavorless sojourn at home. 
“ At that age they always fancy some one older than 
themselves,” was her private reflection. 

• But Betty was not to share these hopeful medita- 
tions. Nor was there any danger of her guessing 
her sister’s whimsical thoughts, she was so unworldly 
and so childlike yet. She only thought it a little odd 
that Christina should “ fuss ” so particularly over her 
afternoon toilet, and take such a time in deciding on 
it ; especially when the choice lay simply between one 
white gown and another white gown, 

“ Why need you mind for to-night, Christina ? 
there ’s only Axel to be here,” said Betty, “ unless 
that tiresome Jack Leavitt chooces to come.” 

“ I dress for my own satisfaction, always,” returned 
Christina, in a slightly frosty tone. “ It is so vex- 
atious to have things obstinate about going on,” she 
added, twitching at a stubborn sash-end. “ Do, 
Betty, bunch up my hair in the neck, and tie a ribbon 
on it, please. I have never got it quite to suit me 
since I sent away my Lisette, in Paris.” 


138 


AT DAYBREAK. 


“ You never could get it to look anything but 
pretty, I know,” said Betty, whose warm appreciation 
of her sister’s beauty always remained just as sincere 
as in the first days of their meeting, when Christina 
came home a grown young lady. 

No, it was quite impossible that Axel should not 
admire her, Betty thought, and was pleased to think, 
as he came up to them in the afternoon dusk of their 
parlor. 

Christina had changed somewhat, but only for the 
prettier, since his last sight of her. Her complexion 
was what poor Hector used to call, in his flowery 
tongue, “mother-of-pearl, with rosy reflections.” 
There was a great deal of soft blue shadow around 
her eyes, which she made the most of by clever 
treatment of her rich and crispy curling hair. 
Thanks to Aunt Bertha, Christina had a fine dis- 
crimination in dress ; and also, thanks to nobody 
but herself, she had a perfectly easy and charming 
girlish air in whatever garments she was pleased to 
put on. * 

All these things Axel was aware of before he had 
exchanged two sentences with Mrs. Lecomte. He 
recognized her for a genuinely pretty woman. He 
had, however, seen a great many pretty women in 
the last five years. 

As for Christina, her first sensation was one, actu- 
ally, of embarrassment. Instead of the “ immature 
young man ” she had looked for, here she was shak- 
ing hands with a dignified figure, whose grave 
moustached face was familiar and yet unfamiliar, and 


HALF-MOURNING. 


139 


fronted her with the gracious neutrality of a wax- 
works young man. Axel had chosen to renew the 
acquaintance with what Betty called his grand air, 
perhaps remembering his little disadvantage in point 
of years. And when he put on his grand air, he 
looked very grand indeed — for a young fellow. 

Face to face with him, Christina forgot about that. 
It even seemed to her, as she sat looking up at the 
young man’s generous size, and listening to the dex- 
terous nothings which he felt it proper to say, as if 
he must have had ten or twelve years the better of 
her in worldly experience. 

There was something novel, too, in his manner. 
She was used to seeing masculine faces approach 
her with smiles of imbecile delight and anxious 
homage ; or, in more advanced stages, with a very 
flattering powder-magazine sort of expression. Con- 
sequently she was piqued by the cool, unmoved air 
with which young Brand talked and laughed, as 
though she had been any other woman, and a plain 
one at that. 

“ What an iron-clad ! ” she murmured to herself. 

When she played for them, later in the evening, 
she was uneasily aware of his silent criticism. More 
provoking still, she could see, under the convenient 
shadow of her hair, that he was turning his non- 
committal eye from her to Betty beside her, as 
though instituting private comparisons between them. 
Exasperating young man ! Christina would not have 
contradicted any one who praised her sister’s face, 
but she was far from viewing it as a rival to her own. 


140 


AT DAYBREAK. 


What Axel thought about it did not appear. He was 
not in the habit of betraying his thoughts. 

And meanwhile pretty wide-eyed Betty was watch- 
ing too, her only concern being that Axel should 
admire Christina and appreciate her nimble perform- 
ance. The young lady did “ execute ” with a great 
deal of brilliancy, although there was a lack of 
something — soul, a musician would probably say — 
always evident to those who listened. 

“Your Axel has plenty of assurance, at least,” 
said she, when Betty and herself were alone again. 
She was not entirely sure of having made a great 
impression on him, which was rather trying. 

“ Oh, do you think so ? ” said Betty, beginning to 
laugh. “ Well, I think myself he does n’t need any 
more. You like him, don’t you, Christina ? ” with 
the air of putting a quite unnecessary question. 

“ Why, you give me short notice to decide about 
that. I should want a rather longer acquaintance 
with him before committing myself — say another 
half-hour, at least.” 

“ Oh, you will have enough opportunities for mak- 
ing up your mind. Don’t be ironical, please. I am 
sure you can’t help liking him.” 

Axel would very probably have agreed with her 
on that point, as he had never had any reason to 
doubt his own success with people. He was not 
giving it consideration just then. He said at 
home that Mrs. Lecomte was remarkably pretty, and 
that she seemed to bear her loss with great fortitude. 
Of course it was not natural that such a young and 


HALF-MOURNING. 


I41 

pretty thing should remain under a cloud any longer 
than the proprieties absolutely commanded. 

Her arrival did not cause any change in his 
social habits. At first, feelings of delicacy made 
him shy of recalling in any way the little period of 
her engagement, when she had made her visit to Lyme 
in such high feather. But aft^ a while her own 
frequent allusions to that time showed that she was 
not so sensitive about it. 

Axel remembered the boyish nickname of “ Count- 
ess” that he had given her then ; and would not for 
the world have let it slip off his tongue under the 
present circumstances. He was considerably aston- 
ished, in truth a little shocked, when she reminded 
him of it one day, in an airy manner. 

“ Oh, very well,” said he to himself. “ I need n’t 
be so careful of your feelings. Countess ! ” 

And one afternoon the nickname escaped him, as 
he and the two sisters were driving over the country- 
road in a somewhat effervescent frame of mind. 

Christina laughed, and showed plainly that she 
rather liked it than otherwise. After that she was 
“ Countess ” again, quite commonly. 


142 


AT DAYBREAK, 


CHAPTER XII. 

AXEL MffETS A NEW SPECIMEN. 

E must show him all our lions, mamma,” said 



VV Betty as soon as Axel was well installed at 
the cottage. 

But little time was consumed in that ceremony; 
and the “ lions ” proved so very tame that Axel 
showed only an increased fondness for the stone ones 
next door. The Harrods, Jack Leavitt, even Mr. 
Goodwillie, had been produced for Axel’s entertain- 
ment, with such other eligible people as the little 
township afforded. 

“ And now I believe we have come to the end of our 
lions. Axel,” said Dr. Brand, crossing his slippered 
feet with great enjoyment on the doorstep. The 
father and son were smoking together in good fel- 
lowship at the head of their cottage-steps. Morning- 
glories, in those days not yet convicted of “bad 
form,” ran up the door-posts and made a pretty 
framework for the opposite bit of pastoral scenery. 
“ Yes, I really believe we have come to the end of 
our lions.” 

“ For which, and all other mercies,” irreverently 
murmured the young man, “ I assure you I ’m truly 
thankful, sir 1 ” 


AXEL MEETS A NEW SPECIMEN. 143 


“ That is,” continued the Doctor, “ with the ex- 
ception of the Reverend Roderic Musgrove, who has 
been away in the city for a few days, or you would 
have met him before this.” 

“Spare me, papa ! ” exclaimed Axel, raising his* 
irreverent eyebrows. “ Who the dickens is the 
Reverend Roderic Musgrove ? ” 

“ Why, my dear boy ! ” protested his mild-eyed 
mamma, catching the remark through the adjoining 
window of her sewing-room. “ Mr. Musgrove is the 
rector, and a most agreeable young man — quite 
charming, indeed. I really think you will like him.” 

“ It occurred to me to mention him just now, be- 
cause ” — resumed the Doctor with an air of obser- 
vation — “ because I see him in the distance.” 

The Reverend Roderic, indeed, might now be seen' 
as well as heard, making his way lightly across the 
fields with his favorite fishing-tackle, and whistling at 
the full power of his sound English lungs. He was 
accompanied by a nice little terrier, which frisked 
and wiggled in tireless delight, and uttered an ex- 
plosion of yaps when his reverend master vaulted 
over a fence in the best Oxford style. 

“ Oh, that can’t be your rector,” said Axel, bring- 
ing out the eye-glass which he carried around with 
him as a kind of University badge. “ That is a 
young fellow with a dog and a fishing-rod. Look at 
that jump ! What sort of a rector should you call 
that, sir ? And do you hear what he ’s whistling 
an air from Boi’eldieu, by Jove ! ” 

All Axel’s foreign training had not rubbed out of 


144 


AT DAYBREAK. 


him certain childish superstitions about the “ sanctity 
of the clergy,” which his mamma had carefully worked 
into him with his nursery lessons. His life abroad 
had not acquainted him with any specimens of the 
modern clergyman. So he said again, bringing his 
glass to bear on the nimble pedestrian, “That can’t 
be your rector, sir.” 

“ Oh, but it is Musgrove,” declared the Doctor. 
“ That ’s one of his favorite airs ; apd he jumps like 
a grasshopper ! He is a nice fellow. I think I will 
speak to him.” The Doctor rose, and projected an 
unceremonious “ Hi ! ” into the distance. 

The Reverend Roderic paused and turned his 
head. Pie was carrying his cap in hand, and at sight 
of the Doctor he swung it by way of recognition. 
Responding to the Doctor’s pantomime, he turned 
about and strode toward the stone cottage. 

Axel continued to gaze through his glass without 
saying anything, while his father ran down the steps 
and walked out hospitably to the gate. Then he 
sauntered after him slowly, with a curious air. 

“Glad to see you back, Mr. Musgrove,” called out 
the Doctor, as an advance-guard of breathless ter- 
rier whisked under the gate and sniffed noisily at his 
feet. “ Ha, Jacky ! good dog ! — Your absence has 
made itself felt, sir. Must have been tolerably warm 
in the city this week, I judge.” 

“ Ah, distressingly so I ” said the rector, shaking 
hands with immense vigor. “ Quite pulled me down, 
Doctor, it did indeed.” 

Axel wondered what the reverend gentleman’s 


AXEL MEETS A NEW SPECIMEN 145 


physical state could have been before the “ pulling 
down ” process. He spoke in a rich, sonorous voice, 
well suited to his frame, which was furnished with 
the muscles of a gymnast. His smooth-shaven face 
was pale but solid, with a good development of chin 
and lower lip. Light eyes, keen as points of steel, 
twinkled under his square forehead ; and many little 
lines around them indicated a strong sense of 
humor. 

“ I am happy to show you the balance of my fam- 
ily,” said Dr. Brand with an introductory gesture, 
and a proud smile on his handsome face. ‘‘ My son, 
Mr. Musgrove.” 

“You have my congratulations. Doctor,” said Mr. 
Musgrove, holding out his hand to Axel. 

The two young men looked at each other with 
friendly faces. Axel was rather silent at first, after 
his usual habit; but paid gracious attention to Mr. 
Musgrove’s remarks. The rector interested him 
greatly, and seemed to offer a novel psychological 
example. He was fond of studying people. Odd as 
it might be, among all those he had met abroad he 
had not encountered one belonging to that “ad- 
vanced ” apostolic type which the Reverend Roderic 
illustrated. Perhaps at that time they were only be- 
ginning to appear. 

He therefore looked at the young divine with a good 
deal of curiosity, not quite free from amusement. He 
had that very natural feeling to young worldly people, 
that however worldly they may be themselves, the man 
who stands for their spiritual leader ought to be some- 


146 


AT DAYBREAK. 


thing quite apart from and above their ways and 
thoughts — a teacher instead of a schoolmate, as it 
were. Not that he felt much in need of teacher or 
leader ; but he was very sensitive to the proprieties ; 
and how, alas ! could he give the proper amount of 
reverence to the cloth when fixed on a young fellow 
not so much older than himself, who tramped the 
fields with sinister intentions toward pickerel, and 
roused the echoes with operatic trills ? 

But AxeFs father liked the rector : even his gentle 
mamma seemed to approve him ; which of course 
forbade his forming a dislike for the Reverend Rod- 
eric. 

The Reverend Roderic, on his side, took a most 
uncommon fancy to Axel. That seemed natural, be- 
cause everybody liked young Brand. Day after day 
the two met each other, and felt into more familiar 
intercourse. The rector confided to Axel that he 
was very particularly glad of his society, and ad- 
mitted that he had found it just a trifle slow in 
Lyme. 

To which Axel returned, with his lazy air of amuse- 
ment, that he thought it likely ; but added that he 
himself found the slowness quite agreeable, for a 
change. 

The rector spoke with much enthusiasm of the 
Karlsen family ; and the other assented, and noticed, 
smoothing his moustache gravely, that his clerical 
friend had very little to say about Mrs. Lecomte. 

The rector begged Axel to come and see him often : 
which Axel was very willing to do, especially after he 


AXEL MEETS A JVEJV SPECIMEN. 147 


had been there once and found a pleasant disorderly 
“ den,” smelling of smoke and adorned with fowling- 
pieces and piscatorial emblems, and a said-to-be Stra- 
divarius topping a pile of music-books. 

Mr. Musgrove showed off this last treasure with 
great satisfaction when the young men sat together 
in his study. Now and then he brought it over to 
the Brands’ and played it to them ; still oftener to 
the Karlsens’, where he also sang readily when asked. 
Mrs. Brand was very w^ell pleased at Axel’s famili- 
arity with the rector ; indeed, she was pleased at any- 
thing that pleased her son. 

Betty was less so. She could not complain that 
Mr. Musgrove deprived her of Axel’s society, for 
somehow the young man was perpetually lounging 
about the house, inside or out. But she had no 
fancy for Mr. Musgrove; and she could not quite 
understand what attraction Axel found in him. She 
did not think it could be any spiritual attraction ; at 
any rate, St. Agatha’s did not seem to come in for a 
share of it. 

His mamma had great difficulty in coaxing him to 
adorn the head of the family pew on occasional Sun- 
day mornings : something which the Doctor system- 
atically declined to do at any time. Axel generally 
begged off with caresses and filial teasings when his 
mamma argued. If Betty or Christina lectured him 
he replied by a flighty speech about the altars of Na- 
ture ; and went off to lie on his back under the apple- 
trees and watch the butterflies and beetles till he fell 
asleep, or until the ladies returned from church. They 


148 


AT DAYBREAK. 


got into a habit of looking over the hedge for his 
brown head on their way home. If it appeared to 
be asleep they tossed burrs at it ; and when it roused 
up in feigned wrath they stopped and exchanged a 
little badinage with its owner across the bushes. 

Betty came home from church one morning earlier 
than the others. She walked slowly, holding up 
her white frock from the dust and balancing a big sun- 
umbrella thoughtfully in her warm hand, from which 
she had pulled off its little silk covering. At the crook 
in the road where they usually stopped to look for 
Axel she stopped, rested on the low stone wall, and 
looked over the bushes. No one was in Axel’s fav- 
orite place under the apple-tree. Nothing was there 
except the beetles, the warm grass weighted with 
sleepy insects, a few rambling garden-flowers spending 
their sweetness under the hot sun. 

Betty pulled off her other glove and turned into 
the dark elm-walk winding up to the house. “ He 
must have gone with his mother to St. Agatha’s after 
all,” said she. 

But when she let herself in at the front door and 
went across to her music-room, she found its air heavy 
with the well-known scented smoke, betraying the 
presence of “ Don Cesar.” 

“ Not a soul here to let me in, not a soul ! ” mur- 
mured a drowsy voice deep in the shadows. “ Where 
are the inhabitants of the lower regions, Jomfrtc 1 ” 

“ The maids alw’ays go to church, of course,” said 
Betty, peering into the darkened room. “ How did 
you get in, Axel ? ” 


AXEL MEETS A NEW SPECIMEN, 149 


“ Parlor-window — porch, you know. Little gym- 
nastic feat, that ’s all.” 

“ So you break into houses like a burglar instead 
of going to church respectably ! And all your fine 
talk about the temple of Nature — Wretched boy! 
It ’s nothing but pure laziness in you. You ought to 
be disciplined. Your mother is a great deal too in- 
dulgent.” 

“ I was in the orchard, indeed I was,” remonstrated 
Axel, in a somnolent tone. “ Under the apple-tree. 
I felt very contemplative — very open to impressions. 
I don’t know when I have felt more so : I was quite 
penetrated with the beauties of Nature. But then a 
milliped or something of that kind spun right down 
into my eye. You could n’t expect me to pursue my 
reflections with profit after such an interruption. I 
left the temple of Nature in possession of the little 
reptiles, and rambled hither. I was unable to rouse 
Wilkins, but as I never recognize an obstacle I came 
in through the window, as described.” He closed 
with a tremendous yawn. 

“ What desperate perseverance ! Why did n’t you 
go home till somebody came to open the house ? ” 

“ You are cordial, miss ! It was horribly lonesome 
over there. Papa had gone away, nominally to visit 
a patient. I think, myself, he went a-fishing.” 

“ What a heathen you are ! ” said Betty, laughing, 
and not daring to apply that epithet to her mag- 
nificent Doctor. “ Do you know, I think they ’re 
going to bring Mr. Musgrove home to dinner.” 

‘‘ Indeed t ” 


AT DAYBREAK. 


150 

“ Do you like Mr. Musgrove very much, Axel ? ” 

“Why, yes ; he’s a nice sort of fellow,” said Axel, 
suppressing another violent yawn; “plays a fair* 
hand at c — that is — oh yes ”, (rousing up a little) 

“ I think he preaches a very clever sermon, very 
clever indeed.” 

“ What were you going to say ? ” inquired Betty, 
looking at him with a slightly astonished glance. 

“ I beg your pardon, I was half-asleep — I was 
about to say that I liked his sermons very well ” — 

“ How many of them have you heard. Axel ? ” 
said Betty, with soft disapproval in her voice. “ You 
let your mother go off alone to services, and you 
lounge about at home and doze when you might be 
getting some good out of Mr. Musgrove.” 

“ I think I get more good out of him on week- 
days,” said the reprobate, enjoying himself very 
much. “ What are you brandishing Musgrove at me 
for ? you know you don’t like him, you little decep- 
tion.” 

“ Oh, I never said any such thing,” disclaimed 
Betty, in great concern. “ Never ! I say that about 
a minister ! Why, mamma would be shocked beyond 
words ! ” 

“ Well, you need n’t say it. It ’s plain enough. 
Oh, you are not so deep, you know ! Never 
mind, I ’m rather glad you don’t like him. But as 
for me, I ought to like him very much, don’t you 
think I ought ? for furnishing such good arguments 
in favor of my go-as-you-please style of life.” 

“ What do you mean .? ” said Betty, rounding her 


AXEL MEETS A NEW SPEC/MEN. 151 


gray eyes. “ When did he ever favor your staying 
away from church, please ? ” 

I was not referring to that particular. But does n’t 
he always seem to be having a jolly time ? does n’t 
he always take things pretty much as he chooses ? 
Why should n’t I, too Do you ever read anything 
so old-fashioned as Cowper, Betty? and did you 
ever happen on a couplet like this ? 

‘ Strike up the fiddles, let us all be gay ! 

Laymen have leave to dance, if parsons play. ’ ” 

Betty looked up quickly. “ O Axel, do you really 
think it ’s wrong, then ? ” 

“ Think what 's wrong ? ” repeated the young man, 
laughing. “ How literal you are ! Don’t be so 
limited. Miss Bertha ! ” 

“ But you surprise me so. I thought — I thought 
you were really quite fond of Mr. Musgrove.” 

“ Well, I am fond of him, after a fashion. He 
amuses me, unspeakably. I like to study him. And 
I get one solace out of him, at least — whatever my 
week-day foibles may be, I can’t see that old Mus. 
is any better fellow than I am, out of his pulpit.” 

“ Old Mus /’’ echoed Betty, in a withering tone. 

“ Beg his pardon — the Reverend Roderic Mus- 
grove. He likes the same things that I do, and 
spends his time pretty much in the same way, except 
for his frightful tramps up country, which is a pas- 
time that does n’t tempt me at all. And as for his 
sermons — look here, Betty,” — Axel came up on his 
elbow, quite in earnest — “now, frankly! You 


152 


AT DAYBREAK. 


think they ’re very clever ; so do I. But you know 
they don’t suit you. Very well ; they don’t suit me. 
Why must I go and be preached at by a man whom 
I can’t possibly regard as any more spiritually- 
minded than myself ? I never lose that impression 
of him, even in his pulpit. It ’s the result of his 
theory, I suppose — ‘accepting the bond of common 
humanity,’ and so forth. But I don’t want a common 
human to give me Scripture lessons ! If I am to 
learn of anybody, it must be a man whose life illus- 
trates something higher than mine. All the same, 
I give Musgrove credit for not assuming perfections 
that he does n’t possess. If he were hypocritical I 
could n’t tolerate him. But don’t ask me to sit at 
his feet as if he were old St. Francis, for I shan’t 
do it.” 

Betty listened in no slight bewilderment. It was 
the first approach to so serious a theme that she had 
ever heard from Axel. 

“ I did n’t suppose,” said she, gravely, “ that you 
ever thought about such things. I wished that you 
would go to St. Agatha’s because I thought it was 
so much better for you than lounging at home. And 
I thought you liked Mr. Musgrove ; and he is so 
clever, I fancied you would find his sermons inter- 
esting ” — 

“ Interesting ? Oh, I dare say. I can run down 
to the city and listen to an interesting discourse 
almost any day, in the lecture season. It surprises 
you to hear me hold forth on this subject. I ’ll go a 
little further. I have no patience with a clergyman 


AXEL MEETS A NEW SPECIMEN. 1 53 


who stands up in his consecrated place, among the 
symbols of the Supreme, and twists his language into 
little tropes and mixes it with little jokes, to take 
‘the ears of the groundlings.’ I ’ll go further yet — 
I have simply contempt for him ! Now, Musgrove 
is n’t quite so bad as that, you know. But he ’s bit- 
ten with it. He ’s too apt to let his fine rhetoric 
overrun the solid part of his sermons, just as a vine 
runs all over a chapel — till you nearly lose sight of 
the building.” 

“ But the chapel is there all the same, is n’t it "t 
I suppose he thinks it is more attractive to people by 
reason of the vine,” said Betty, putting in a good 
word for the accused. 

“ Oh, I dare say. And he has no scruples about 
getting in a witty thing either, when he sees his 
chance. Witticisms in the pulpit! Fancy the high 
priests in the Tabernacle cracking jokes before the 
altar ! He does it, aS you say, to make his discourse 
‘attractive to the people.’ On the same principle 
that you shake a rattle at a baby, as a last resort, to 
keep it quiet a few minutes. No, I ’ll have no rattles 
shaken at me ! ” 

He threw himself back and laughed. 

Like all reticent people he was a little ashamed of 
having spoken out his thoughts so vigorously ; and 
he put on a quizzical air, as though it might all pass 
for a joke. But Betty saw that he was in earnest, 
and wondered at this unexpected glimpse. 

The sound of voices entered at the window ; evi- 
dently Christina was bringing the rector home to 


154 


AT DAYBREAK, 


dine, as they expected. A little conscience-stricken 
after the criticism to which she had been a party, 
Betty ran out to open the door hospitably. 

Christina floated in, shaking the dust from her 
black gauzes. The Reverend Roderic followed, car- 
rying her sunshade and an armful of lace which she 
had discarded on account of the heat. 

“ How delightfully dark and cool it is here after 
the glare outside. Miss Betty. — That you. Brand? 
We failed to see you at church this morning. I fear 
your continued absence implies something uncompli- 
mentary to my sermons.” 

“ Not so, Musgrove,” returned the young man, 
who was intimate enough by this time with the rector 
to take his own way of addressing him. “ Quite 
otherwise. ’Tis only that my health requires indul- 
gence, above all upon the seventh day. You would 
hardly suspect me of being afflicted with ill-health, 
now! ” 

“ Moral ill-health, my boy, moral ill-health ! Oh, 
don’t hope to escape sermonizing by staying away 
from church I I shall frame a special denunciation 
and hurl it at you unaware, on a week-day.” 

“Take him in hand, Mr. Musgrove,” said Chris- 
tina lightly, gathering herself up to go and make her 
afternoon toilet. “He is a bad subject. He is in 
need of your best efforts, I assure you.” 

Betty opened the window-blinds ; and the soft 
leaf-tempered light flowed into the room. 

Axel pulled himself up, gave a final, somewhat re- 
gretful yawn, stroked down his rumpled crest, and 


AXEL MEETS A NEW SPECIMEN 155 

assumed a more social aspect. The Reverend Rod- 
eric, who always found it immensely hard to keep 
still, made short turns about the room as he talked 
and laughed. Betty watched him, and thought of 

the machine-like restlessness of some animals she 

♦ 

had seen in a cage, in the city — furry illustrations 
of perpetual motion. But she did not intend to com- 
pare those striped and mottled activities with the 
rector of St. Agatha’s. He was simply a strong 
young man, blessed with such a rush of vitality that 
it was impossible for him to restrain his exuberant 
gestures, his free play of elbows and shoulders, his 
leonine trick of shaking back his thick crop of hair. 

She retired into a seat beside her piano, leaning 
on it affectionately, and contrasted the rector’s ani- 
mated bulk with Axel’s idle, graceful figure, which 
at that moment was “ lopping forward ” in a boneless 
sort of way upon its elbows. 

“ I always thought Axel would have more energy 
when he was grown,” she reflected. “ I suppose he 
is resting now after his travels.” Then she fell to 
thinking over his recent unexpected remarks, and 
wishing that Mr. Musgrove were a little different 
kind of clergyman, and could have a stronger in- 
fluence over him. 

The clerical voice struck in on her revery. Mr. 
Musgrove had picked up a book from the table, and 
was whipping over its leaves with his finger and put- 
ting on an expression of grave disapproval. 

“ Who has been reading this ? ” he asked. 

“ I have,” said Betty, absently. It was one of the 


156 


AT DA YBREAK. 


French novels that Christina had brought home with 
her from abroad, a highly spiced though inoffensive 
production, offering every known climax, beginning 
with a decapitation and ending in a quicksand. 
Betty’s course of reading had not included much of 
that class ; and as the story contained nothing worse 
than thrilling she thought it very interesting. 

Mr. Musgrove laid down the book with an air of 
disgust. 

“ What ’s the matter with it ? ” asked Axel. 

“ I wonder Miss Betty can fancy a work of this 
nature,” said Mr. Musgrove, solemnly. “ It ’s not 
the sort of book I should recommend, at all.” 

“ I did not notice anything very bad in it,” said 
Betty; “only startling things — nothing really bad.” 

“Not intrinsically bad, perhaps,” said the Rev- 
erend Roderic, “ and yet bad in its 'effects. The 
sensational is always bad. It is a diet of literary 
curry and red peppers, you know. A story like this, 
crammed with absurd horrors, and without decided 
merit enough to repay the reading of it, cannot be 
called a healthy article of diet for anybody’s mind, 
you know.” 

“ I don’t see how you can have found out about 
the story so quickly,” said Betty with meekness, feel- 
ing that the Reverend Roderic was more than half 
right in his judgment. 

Axel smiled and pulled down the corners of his 
moustache. 

“ The author is well known in his country as a 
writer of sensational fiction,” said Mr. Musgrove, so- 


AXEL MEETS A NEW SPECIMEN 1 57 


berly ; “ he never writes anything else. That class 
of works undoubtedly does much harm and precious 
little good. It ’s a pity fertile wits should spend 
themselves so. — By the way, Brand, have you come 
across that clever thing in the '' Eclectic V — 
etc. 

The theme was changed. Betty thought it very 
proper in Mr. Musgrove to condemn the bad quali- 
ties of a book ; and accordingly he mounted some- 
what in her esteem. Axel was rather astonished, 
but it soon slipped out of his mind, till recalled by a 
little circumstance some days later. 

He was passing an afternoon in Mr. Musgrove’s 
study, engaged in his favorite amusement of rum- 
maging the rector’s book-shelves, perched on that 
gentleman’s little step-ladder. The rector, stretched' 
on the deep window-seat in a species of shooting- 
jacket, was hugging his violin and softly rasping its 
strings. He looked at the moment more like a mem- 
ber of a strolling Orphic society taking a holiday than 
like the stately pastor of St. Agatha’s. 

His musings were suddenly disturbed by an ex- 
plosive chuckle from the step-ladder. Axel had been 
overhauling a dusty layer of books on the topmost 
shelf, and had fallen upon something that appeared 
to amuse him very much. 

“ What ails you. Brand ” inquired Mr. Musgrove, 
with suspended bow. “ What have you found up 
there .? ” 

“ Literary curry and red peppers, my boy ! ” Axel 
exclaimed, beginning to imitate his friend’s “ dis- 


158 


AT DA YBREAK. 


coursing voice.” “ This is not at all the sort of 
book that I should recommend, Roderic ! It cannot* 
be called a healthy article of diet for anybody’s ” — 

“Oh — Well, sure enough,” said the Reverend 
Roderic, laughing rather consciously, “ there it is ! 
I ’d forgotten about it, but I know it used to be 
tumbling round among my books at home. Don’t 
‘ tell on me,’ as the boys say ! ” 

“ I have a great mind to tell Betty, in revenge for 
the lecture she had to take on account of this little 
lucubration. The book was n’t hers, anyway ; it be- 
longed to Mrs. Lecomte.” 

“ Ah well, it would n’t do me any harm to read it, 
of course. A clergyman is obliged to open his eyes 
once in a while upon the things he censures, in order 
to know what he ’s talking about,” said the rector, 
with the air of introducing a novelty in argument. 
“ I think you must appreciate that. Brand. And in 
my position, you know, I could n’t have spoken other- 
wise than as I did.” 

“Oh, of course,” said Axel, with a shrug; and 
the little object of discussion whirled back into the 
dust whence it came, and the society of various simi- 
lar works. 

His opinion of the Reverend Roderic was not 
much affected by the incident. He had already, as 
he said to himself, “ located him,” and was not to be 
perplexed by any new phases of the Musgrovian 
character. Only a few weeks before this, in helping 
to hunt for some trifle through the chaos of the 
rector’s writing-desk. Axel came across a pack of 
cards, considerably limp around the edges. 


AXEL MEETS A NEW SPECIMEN, 1 59 


“ Whew ! ” said he, pouncing upon and shuffling 
them with a malicious smile. “ My reverend 
friend ” — 

“ Caught ! ” said the rector, promptly accepting 
the situation. “ That does look a little off color, to 
be sure, for a Lyme clergyman ! They are relics of 
old Oxford days, before I went in for the D. D., and 
I did n’t like to throw them away. I ’ll tell you what 
it is. Brand, my father was a Dean, and he always 
played and took his port like any other old-school 
churchman, and it was considered all right. I know 
your people over here have different views about it, 
for the clerg 3 \ But most of them think it’s well 
enough for themselves — my parishioners do, and I 
agree with them — and if it is a harmless amusement 
in itself, where ’s the harm in my enjoying it, too ? 
Still, I don’t wish to disturb the fossils. But if you 
like, we might have a little quiet game of cribbage 
here, with closed dpors, you know.” 

Axel laughed, and began to deal on the lid of the 
writing-desk. 

It was not the last game he had in the clerical 
study. He did not mention it to anybody except his 
father, who thereafter made a third party at these 
innocent orgies, and brought over many bottles of 
port, with which they rejoiced and made merry out 
of respect to Mr. Musgrove’s deceased parent, the 
Dean. 


i6o 


AT DAYBREAK, 


CHAPTER XIII. 

SWEET CHARITY. 

H armless as these Httle diversions may have 
been, they would have caused a stir if be- 
trayed to the friends of the three revellers. 

Christina would have been very curious and 
amused — would have persisted in calling it a secret 
society, and wishing she could be made an honorary 
member. Betty would have worried oyer it ; not so 
much about the cribbage and the port, both of which 
were sometimes enjoyed by her father, as about the 
Reverend Roderic and his leanings to these worldly 
pleasures. She did not fail, in her critical moods, to 
compare him with Mr. Gcodwillie, who held a fixed 
place in her admiration. 

And Mr. Goodwillie, certainly, would have looked 
with no less dubious surprise upon the peculiar tastes 
of his fellow-servant in the ministry. He had no time 
to think of amusements for himself. Small as his 
field of labor might be, there was always, something 
to do for somebody, some writing to be prepared, 
some plan to be worked out in the interests of his 
little church. No amusement could be so attractive 
to him as the halting but earnest talk of some rustic 
old disciple, or the grateful look on some worn face 


SIVEET CHARITY. 


l6l 


in return for a service, or the shy advances of some 
friendly little child. 

Children were always fond of him. He was fond 
of them, and deft at managing them ; even the very 
little ones were quite at home in his hands, though 
he was, as the devoted Mrs. Ricker said, a bachel- 
der.” 

Enoch Goodwillie was not a very young man any 
longer, neither was he yet a middle-aged man. He 
looked much older than he really was. In spite of 
the old device of fiction*which dooms simple young 
ministers to be the prey of the first -coquette who 
happens along, Mr. Goodwillie had gotten safely 
into his thirty-ninth year without ever thinking of 
such a thing. It was doubtful if he had ever glanced 
at the possibility of being anything but a “ bachel- 
der.” He went on his pastoral way, his head full of 
busy benevolence, giving the same warm, impersonal 
sympathy to each one of his people. Humanity was 
all inviting to him, he said. But probably no frivo- 
lous specimen of it, never so fair and coaxing, could 
have succeeded in making a plaything of him, he 
was so guarded by his own pure unworldliness. 

If he did ever find himself drawn rather oftener to 
one house than another in his parish, it was probably 
the Karlsens’ house. The kindness which always 
met him there was very comfortable ; Mrs. Karlsen 
was one of his best friends, and Betty was much like 
her mother. He could not help being pleased by 
the interest which .the young girl showed in his work, 
and not the less because it looked out of a “ tea-rose 


AT DAYBREAK. 


162 

face ” and a pair of soft and kind gray eyes. In fact, 
as Mr. Goodwillie, on his thirty-ninth birthday, walked 
away from the stone lions toward his home in the 
village, he woke to the fact that he was persistently 
shadowed by the same tea-rose face and gray eyes. 

He was puzzled and rather startled, and tried to 
focus his mind on Joe Ricker’s compound fracture 
and the consequent expenses to be met. But it was 
a vain attempt. When he reached his own doorstep 
the shadowy Betty was there before him, smiling with 
sweet pertinacity. 

He stood still outside, and thoughtfully pushed 
back his hat. 

“Well,” said he, after a short but profound con- 
sideration, “ maybe I am something like other people, 
after all.” As he went by the small looking-glass in 
his room — “ Who would have thought it of me ? ” 
said he, with a slightly ironical glance at his plain 
reflection. 

And that was the last comment Mr. Goodwillie ever 
made on his discovery. Any practical following-up 
of it was as remote from him as if the Karlsens had 
been living at the antipodes. A suggestion that the 
lists might be open to all would have held no mean- 
ing for him. He was in his sphere now — a poor 
and busy apostle with somewhat seedy garments — 
with plenty of work and but a small income, which 
he ought not to expect to share with any one. He 
had quietly set aside more than one wish in his life ; 
and if here was a new one to be added to the list, he 
was going to deal with it as he had with the others 
— in serene silence. 


SWEET CHARITY. 


163 

The idea that a pretty maid of seventeen could let 
her fancy settle upon him would have struck him as 
quite too preposterous for notice. Besides, in the 
light of his own discovery he began to think of Axel, 
and to “ draw horoscopes ” of his future which in- 
volved the tea-rose face of his old playmate. To say 
that those reflections were comfortable to Mr. Good- 
willie would be to make him out superhuman. But 
it was only part of his experience, and nobody was 
to know it. His various charges would be, if possi- 
ble, better attended to than usual ; and there were 
plenty of them on his hands at the time. 

To begin with, it seemed as if the poor people of 
Lyme had formed a combination to all fall ill at 
once, which called for peculiarly active benevolence 
on the part of their minister. And when, following 
close on the last new case of scarlet fever, a rumor 
reached him that Lemmy Robbins was “broke out 
with sumthin ’ruther,” Mr. Goodwillie began to feel 
that things were getting into a bad state indeed. 

Lemmy Robbins was the youngest of a little or- 
phaned family who were looked after by a fifteen- 
year-old sister, stronger in spirit than in body, as Mr. 
Goodwillie well knew. 

“Why, poor Jenny will break down entirely if the 
boy is to need much care,” said the good man, anx- 
iously. And off he hurried to the Robbins cottage 
to see for himself. The doctor was there talking 
with Jenny, who brightened instantly at the sight of 
Mr. Goodwillie’s face. 

“ Doctor Wyse says Lemmy is n’t very bad, sir,” 
she exclaimed cheerfully. 


164 


AT DA VBREAK. 


“No, it’s nothing but a slight form of scarlatina; 
very slight and not at all dangerous,” said Dr. Wyse. 
“Only the child must be well looked after, you know 
— must n’t get cold, and must n’t miss his medicine. 
It ’s going to keep this little woman pretty busy, with 
her three other boys and all her work besides. I 
don’t quite see how she ’ll get through with it.” 

“ I shall get through somehow, doctor,” said Jenny, 
looking up with her great hopeful eyes. 

“Yes, and come down with nervous prostration 
afterwards,” said Mr. Goodwillie to himself, pulling 
his whiskers. “You must have two or three hours’ 
rest every day, Jenny, or the doctor will have you on 
his hands too. Some one must be found, to help a 
little.” 

Who some one might be the minister could not 
imagine. His little force of helpers had no time 
left to give. He himself could play the nurse, but 
there was many another claim upon him more urgent 
than that at the Robbins cottage. But poor Jenny’s 
thin, courageous little face gave him no peace. At 
this point his mind naturally flew back to the stone 
lions, to the shady interior in some quarter of which 
Mrs. Karlsen’s active figure was probably moving 
about. 

“ I have been to her so often lately that it ’s really 
too bad to go again now. They have done so much 
for me,” he meditated. “ But there is Mrs. Lecomte, 
now — why, to be sure, if she were willing to go and 
look in on little Jenny once in a while” — 

He had not seen very much of his friend’s wid- 


SWEET CHARITY. 


65 


owed daughter, as she was generally out of the way 
during his visits. He thought that she must be 
greatly afflicted ; and he felt much pity for her, and 
respectful wonder at her beauty. But, according to 
Mr. Goodwillie’s notion, sorrow is a softener of 
hearts and an awakener of human kindness ; why 
might not an exercise of charity really prove consol- 
ing and beneficial to the bereaved young lady ? 

He knew that she went out to drive, sometimes to 
w'alk, and that her health was not impaired. And he 
made up his mind to go and describe little Jenny’s 
case to her, feeling in his kind simple heart that no 
woman would wait after that to be asked for a proof 
of her compassion. 

The Karl sen parlors looked inviting as he glanced 
into them after his long, dusty afternoon walk. He 
thought, resisting a shy impulse to go away, that 
there must be a great deal of company there ; his 
errand suddenly seemed incongruous, and he felt- 
almost as if it were already repulsed. But there 
were only two callers — it might be said only one, for 
Axel seemed part of the household. Mr. Musgrove 
sat near a window, looking extremely comfortable 
and animated. His little terrier, admitted on proba- 
tion, lay absorbed in watching Christina, who dain- 
tily occupied a basket-chair by her rector. Her 
fleecy white flounces completely overflowed its 
wicker-work arms ; Mr. Goodwillie thought it looked 
like a cradle with a pretty infant in it. Her rich hair 
was tied low in a cluster, as usual; her exquisite 
white neck was clasped with a black ribbon. The 


/ 


AT DAYBREAK. 


l66 

waxy hand twinkled with great diamonds as it 
softly swayed her inconsolably-black fan. 

The poor minister’s spirits fell, he did not know 
why. 

Betty was at her piano in the shadow, touching it 
so lightly that its response was half-audible. Axel, 
absolved from ceremony, read a newspaper behind 
the instrument. They smiled at Mr. Goodwillie as 
he came in, and waved their hands to him hospitably ; 
and Mrs. Lecomte rose — in a Paphian manner, from 
the waves of muslin — and gave him her velvet 
fingers very pleasantly. He looked, with some diffi- 
dence, into her lovely blue eyes, and was slightly re- 
assured. 

“ She is her mother’s daughter,” he reminded him- 
self. 

“You are an inveterate pedestrian, Mr. Good- 
willie,” said the Reverend Roderic, placing a chair 
for him with great courtesy. “ I ’ve seen you twice 
already to-day passing my window; and that’s 
a good mile-and-a-half from your place, I should say. 
Pedestrianism is a fine thing, especially for us who 
use our brains so much.” 

“ I have had occasion to try my paces lately,” 
said Mr. Goodwillie, smiling, though not quite at 
ease. He was never quite at ease with this brother- 
minister ; which was singular, for the latter seemed 
ease itself. “ There is a great deal of sickness among 
my poorer parishioners just now. I am obliged to do 
more visiting than common on that account.” 

“Ah, yes. Yes, I understood there was a sort of 


SWEET CHARITY, 


167 


epidemic of illness in your parish. It ’s very extra- 
ordinary, isn’t it? Still, I hope the worst is over. 
How are your invalids getting on, Mr. Goodwillie ? ” 

“ Why, I am sorry to say they are not all getting 
on as well as could be desired, sir. And this morn- 
ing I found still another case, in a family for whom I 
am much interested ” — and Mr. Goodwillie, having 
broken his ice, plunged into the story at once, grow- 
ing quite eloquent over poor little Jenny and her 
struggles. 

Christina leaned forward to listen, and kept her 
violet eyes fixed on his face with a look of delicate 
sympathy. He felt encouraged as he watched her. 

“ Poor little thing ! ” she exclaimed, when he had 
finished, settling back with a deep sigh into the mus- 
lin waves. “ What a dreadfully hard time she has 
had ! I ’m sure I hope she will be able to carry it 
through without injuring her health, though I don’t 
see how she possibly can ! ” 

“ She has determination enough for it,” said Mr. 
Goodwillie, whose face had fallen a little, if only 
she were not so slight and small. But what she 
needs is occasional rest; and if I could find some 
one who would consent to step in and supply her 
place in the little brother’s sick-room once in a 
while ” — 

“ Yes, of course, Mr. Goodwillie, that is just what 
she ought to have ! Now, I should think there 
w'ould be plenty of people who would readily do that 
for her. Is n’t there some one you can think of who 
could be had for the purpose ? ” said Christina, her 


i68 


AT DAYBREAK. 


eyes full of innocent solicitude. Evidently the baby 
in the cradle could not have held itself more irre- 
sponsible in the matter. 

“ To tell the truth, Mrs. Lecomte,” said the minis- 
ter, a little roused, “that was my chief motive in call- 
ing here this afternoon, although I and my work have 
already received so much kind assistance from the 
family that I am half afraid of being an imposition.” 

“ Really ? ” said Christina, leaning back with a look 
of bright astonishment. “You were thinking of our 
Maria, I suppose. I know Maria is a good nurse, 
but I don't see how mamma could possibly spare her ; 
and then there is the danger of infection — and Hulda 
is so clumsy that really she would not be of the slight- 
est use ” 

“ But I was not thinking of either Hulda or Ma- 
ria,” said the minister, driven to his point. “ I hoped 
— you will excuse me for hoping, Mrs. Lecomte — 
that perhaps it would not be an unwelcome sugges- 
tion — that you yourself might find a certain gratifi- 
cation in giving the comfort of your presence to the 
poor girl now and then. It is little more than the 
presence that is needed. You need have no fear of 
infection. It is a simple child's disease, and it is es- 
pecially for the girl’s sake that I suggest it.” 

He did not add, as he thought of doing, that the 
charity might bring its reward by diverting her mind 
from her own trouble. The atmosphere in which he 
found himself was not an atmosphere of trouble, ex- 
actly — or at least it was not the sort of trouble he had 
been used to seeing. 


SWEET CHARITY. 


169 


If he had invited Mrs. Lecomte to visit a small- 
pox hospital the request could hardly have made a 
greater sensation. Mr. Musgrove’s face became blank 
with amazement. Christina’s did the same for an 
instant, and then two little jets of red sprang up in 
her cheeks, and grew deeper and deeper. The look 
she fixed on poor Mr. Goodwillie was a singular com- 
pound of fear, pique, and disgust. 

“ I ! ” she exclaimed, sitting up in her chair. “ You 
actually want me to go and be a nurse ! a person of 
my constitution and in my trying circumstances. Oh, 
I don’t see how you could have thought of such a 
thing ! It shows how very little you understood me.” 

Mr. Goodwillie already felt assured of that. 

“ Yes, really, my dear sir,” said Mr. Musgrove in 
a tone of expostulation, “ a glance at Mrs. Lecomte 
shows that she is not adapted to work of that nature. 
You want a muscular person, you know, for that kind 
of thing. Mrs. Lecomte is — a — not muscular.” 

“ And a disease like that, too — a contagious dis- 
ease ” — persisted the young widow, lamentably ; “ to 
come to me about it of all persons in the world ! — 
it is really too inconsiderate.” 

She covered her flushed face with her handkerchief, 
as if overcome by recollections, and hurriedly with- 
drew from the room. 

“ The late Mr. Lecomte, you may remember, was 
the victim of a contagious disease,” observed Mr. 
Musgrove reproachfully. 

Mr. Goodwillie sat for a moment as under a weight 
of guilt ; he was sure he had not said anything often- 


170 


AT DAYBREAK. 


sive, yet Mrs. Lecomte’s agitated exit put him in a 
very unpleasant mental attitude. Then he recovered 
himself, and looked at Mr. Musgrove with a trifle of 
color playing over his thin cheeks. 

“ I said distinctly it was not a contagious disease,” 
he remarked simply. 

“Oh, I know; but, my dear sir, you don’t take 
into consideration the nerves of a young lady so re- 
cently bereaved. You could hardly expect her to 
follow your explanations.” 

“ Mr. Goodwillie,” said Betty’s quiet voice. She 
had been attentive in the background ; and on Chris- 
tina’s retreat she had left her piano and come for- 
ward. “ Why did n’t you ask me to go and help at 
the Robbins’ ? Did you think I was n’t capable of 
doing it ? ” 

“ You are capable of doing anything, Miss Betty. 
I should have asked you if you had not done so 
much service for me already that I was ashamed to 
want more.” 

“That was a mistake, Mr. Goodwillie. You must 
always give me a chance to help in your good works ; 
you know I call it a privilege. I will go over there 
directly and see what I can do for Jenny.” 

The offer was a more generous one than anybody 
suspected. Betty had been enjoying one of her hap- 
piest hours, so happy that it required some effort to 
voluntarily break it off. The child never asked for 
more absolute pleasure than to spend an afternoon 
as she had been doing, playing to herself, with Axel 
somewhere in speaking distance. It was about the 


SWEET CHARITY. 


171 


same to her whether he read, or dozed, or tossed an 
occasional remark at her, so long as he was there. 
But it would take more than Axel or her beloved 
music to keep Betty from what she considered her 
duty. 

“ It is very kind of you. Miss Betty ; I feel most 
grateful. And you are really not too tired ? it will 
not be too much for you to go this afternoon ? For 
she can pull through till to-morrow without help, I 
am sure.” 

“Oh, but she shall not. You must not think be- 
cause I am pale that I am not strong. I am half- 
English, you know. And, Mr. Goodwillie,” added 
the young girl in a hesitating tone, as the minister 
took up his hat, “ don’t mind about my sister, please. 
She is so sensitive, you know ; in some ways she is 
quite like a child. I am sure you won’t think she 
meant to be unkind.” 

“ Pray don’t be concerned, Miss Betty. I should 
make an apology,” said the minister, with a grave 
smile at the girl, whose soft eyes seemed to appeal 
more than her words for his indulgence to Christina. 
He admired the loyalty which made her try to shield 
and excuse her sister’s too evident faults. “ It was 
rather thoughtless of me, I see. I ought to have 
considered before making my abrupt request of Mrs. 
Lecomte.” 

Axel had been silently attending to this episode 
over the top of his newspaper. He now laid the 
paper aside, and dropped unnoticed through a con- 
venient window into the garden. 


1/2 


AT DAYBREAK. 


As Mr. Goodwillie tramped over the dusty road- 
side where it passed the Brands’ orchard, the young 
man suddenly jumped the low wall and stepped 
along beside him. 

Mr. Goodwillie stared. 

“ Why,” said he, “ I thought I left you just now 
behind Miss Karlsen’s piano.” 

“ You left me getting out of the window, sir, though 
you did n’t notice it. Excuse me, but I want to ask if 
you are positively certain that there is no danger in 
Betty’s going to that cottage to-day.” 

“ You heard what I said about the boy’s sickness, 
Mr. Brand,” said the minister, standing still. “ Do 
you suppose I would perrriit the young lady to 
go there at the slightest risk to herself? She is 
too valuable to be placed under risks. Do you sup- 
pose I have so little regard for her as to put her 
health and life in jeopardy ? ” 

“ No, I do fiot, sir,” said Axel, with a convinced air. 

I hope you ’ll excuse me. I certainly had no rea- 
son to doubt your prudence. I don’t know why I 
should have run after you to ask you that, I ’m sure,” 
and the young man’s brown head vanished as it had 
come, over the wall, with a courteous salute. 

“ I do, though,” said Mr. Goodwillie, looking after 
it half-enviously as he trudged on again. “ Perhaps 
you don’t ; but I do. Happy fellow ! and how little 
you know your happiness ! ” 


MAKING FRIENDS!' 


173 


CHAPTER XIV. 

“making friends.” 

P ROBABLY Mr. Goodwillie was right, and Axel 
did not know how happy he was. 

At all events, as the summer waned, he began to 
show signs of restlessness which was not so much per- 
haps the eruption of repressed energy as a beginning 
of ennui at the placid country-life he found so pleas- 
ant at first. Betty saw it quickly, of course ; and one 
day as she sat in the porch with Axel and Mr. Mus- 
grove, some chance word dropped by the former 
made an opening, and she taxed him playfully with 
being tired of them at home, and asked if he was not 
dying to get away from them again. 

“Why no, of course not,” said Axel, with a little 
of his condescending manner, “ not tired of you. 
I’ve enjoyed the summer very much, you know. 
Only, the fact is, I think I ’ve been lying by about as 
long as I ought. A man should n’t rest on his oars 
too long. And if any business were to take me over 
the water for a while, I should n’t exactly regret it, 
you know.” 

“ Ah, there it comes,” said Mr. Musgrove. “ Yes, 
you see, Miss Betty, the spell of the Old World is 


174 


AT DA YBREAK. 


upon him. It begins to draw ; and we shan’t be 
able to keep him with us long.” 

“ Well, I like it — living abroad,” said Axel, with 
the air of a venerable fellow who has passed many 
decades beyond seas. “ Of course, I like it here ; 
but that ’s no reason why I should stay here all the 
time, I suppose. One wants a change every little 
while, does n’t one ? I have been here a long time 
now, you see.” 

“Nearly three months. Axel,” said Betty gently, 
looking down at him with a trace of reproach in her 
eyes. 

“ We others don’t want a change,” said Mr. Mus- 
grove. “ Look at me, now. If you had been born 
and brought up in England, it would n’t be so odd if 
you were pining to get back there. But I ’m con- 
tented enough here ; why are n’t you ? ” 

“Oh, that’s different. You’re a clergyman. A 
clergyman ought to be contented anywhere, eh ? 
Besides, your logic is poor. You liked to go away 
from home — for a change, I fancy. Why is it odd 
if I like to do the same thing ? ” 

“ I ’m afraid you don’t quite feel that this is 
your home. Axel,” observed Betty gravely, dissimu- 
lating a little sigh. She was thinking of Fredrika 
Lindholm, whose papa had such a large hospitality, 
and a face like an Alkmaar cheese. But Axel was 
not ; the fact is, he had half-forgotten that blonde 
Jomfru already, and had not the least notion of claim- 
ing Herr Lindholm’s hospitality again very soon. 

“Oh, my home is anywhere,” said Axel, putting 


MAKING friends: 


175 


his clasped hands behind his head against the rail. 
His eyes had a smiling, far-away look that Betty 
knew very well, and was silently jealous of ; for it 
seemed to be directed at some distant scenes or 
faces which were all unknown to her. “ I am like 
Councillor Goethe — I am a World-Child, I hap- 
pened to be born here ; that is all. Why should the 
accident of birth give a town, or a state, or a country, 
the right to handcuff me ? I will live where I choose, 
or I will sail under what flag I choose. Nihil 
humanum a"*' — 

“ Oh, don’t ! ” called out the Reverend Roderic, 
breaking into a hearty laugh. “ I had that in a ser- 
mon last Sunday, for a novelty. But go on with the 
declaration of independence, my bold cosmopolite ! 
I see you ’d make a good stump-speaker, as they call 
it here ; you have that at least in common with the 
Yankees.” 

“ You are not patriotic. Axel,” said Betty, disap- 
i:)rovingly. 

“ Patriotic ? Pshaw ! I am a Dane, if you come 
to that. Mamma was born in England. How much 
am I a Yankee, if you please ? ” 

am American,” said Betty, with dignity, 
“ though my mother is a thorough Englishwoman, 
and my father as much a Dane as yours. But I shall 
always be an American, for all that; and I think 
anybody might be glad of being one.” 

She was a little troubled whenever Axel talked in 
that strain. It seemed to put a distance between 
them ; and she felt a sinking of spirits, like a fore- 


176 


AT DAYBREAK, 


runner of that which was to follow. It came out in 
a few days that he really was going to cross the 
ocean again. Some friends of his father had ob- 
tained an unimportant post for him in one of the 
English cities — “it doesn’t make much difference 
what it is,” said the young gentleman, “ provided it 
is respectable and leaves me a reasonable amount of 
liberty. I should like to turn myself around once 
in a while, you know.” 

They thought it would admit of that. The young 
man graciously agreed to accept it. 

Betty took the news quite simply. She was ex- 
pecting something of the sort ; and though that did 
not make it any more agreeable, she was determined 
that neither Axel nor any one else should see how 
very much she felt it. If he was so eager to get 
away from them, she observed to herself, it was bet- 
ter that he should do so. And at the same time, 
feeling in her secret heart that the boy-Axel was 
there yet, however changed, she added, for consola- 
tion : “ There will be a time, by and by, when he will 
remember his home, and come back to it, and be 
more glad to come back than he was to go away.” 

He was to sail in October. The only thing to do 
was to make the most of him while he remained with 
them. He did not enjoy being the object of any 
demonstrations; in fact, a more undemonstrative 
young fellow would be hard to find. He liked to 
do as he pleased in his own careless way, and to 
have all his rather dainty tastes catered to “ without 
any fuss.” In the matter of sentiment, never was a 


^^MAKING friends: 


177 


young man seemingly freer from it; though Betty 
had often heard him rhapsodize over pretty actresses 
and singers, and was highly interested, in a quite 
impersonal way. As regarded Christina, he was 
most unimpressible. The cunning beauty tried all 
her arts, her subtlest sorceries in black lace and jet, 
in white and violet — first her childish style, then 
her grown-up and blasd style, both of which had had 
their triumphs ; but on this hard subject it was all 
futile and of none effect. Axel was by turns mis- 
chievous and moody with her ; he would be amusing 
enough for an hour or so, and then, concealing a 
yawn, would slip into the smoking-room and become 
completely absorbed in the society of Mr. Karlsen. 

With Betty he was more natural, and always 
seemed to be enjoying himself in a quiet way. But 
it was the old fellowship keeping on between them, 
and containing not a hint of the romance which Dr. 
Brand was always hoping to see. Betty was well 
satisfied to have it so ; all she wanted was that it 
might continue. Her sentiment was the simplest 
kind of sentiment, half-formed and easily contented. 
For some reason — perhaps because she had escaped 
much novel-reading — she seldom built castles in 
Spain for Axel and herself to inhabit. She went so 
far indeed sometimes as to think how very disagree- 
able it would be to find him preferring some one 
before herself ; and within the last year she had even 
been looking at this as a dim possibility. But she 
had not yet had occasion to find out exactly how 
disagreeable it might be. 


178 


AT DAYBREAK. 


Christina thought of it, too. She was piqued 
quite unbearably by the utter failure of her fascina- 
tions ; and still not hopeless that Axel’s odd be- 
havior was due to some effect that she had upon 
him. Any effect was better than no effect. She 
would rather — much rather see him afraid of her 
than indifferent to her. 

One day, the week before his departure. Axel 
sauntered across by the “short-cut” to find his 
neighbor’s house apparently deserted. Betty had 
gone on some of her ministrations, and Mr. Karlsen 
had taken his wife out to drive. Axel wandered 
about the empty parlors for a moment or two, and 
then strolled down to the gate and cast himself on 
the grass under the hedge. He had not been there 
many minutes before the rustling of muslin was 
heard, and a pretty copper-tinted head peeped at 
him from the other side of a lilac-bush. 

“ I thought I heard you straying about here some- 
where. You wanted to see me, of course,” said 
Christina, in slightly aggressive playfulness. “ Or 
could it have been some one else you were looking 
for?” 

“ Oh, not anybody in particular, thank you,” said 
Axel, getting up with a somewhat bad grace, and 
propping his tall figure against the gate-post. “ There 
did n’t seem to be anybody to see. I supposed you 
had gone to drive with your mother and father.” 

“ How relieved you must have been ! and how 
disappointed you must be now ! ” remarked the young 
lady, in a tone that was partly jesting and partly 


A KING friends:' 1 79 

defiant. She stepped to the other gate-post, and 
rested her round lace-frilled elbow on it. 

Axel made no reply to the pleasantry beyond the 
silent protest of a shrug. 

“ That's Frenchy, at any rate,” said Christina, bur- 
lesquing it. “ I wish you were as French in other 
respects.” 

“ Such as what, pray ? ” inquired Axel, languidly 
examining his cuff-stud. 

“ Politeness,” returned Christina, shortly. “ Gra- 
ciousness.” 

Axel threw a provoked glance at her. So ! I am 
impolite ! And ungracious, am I ? ” 

“ Extremely so,” said she, watching him gravely 
under her dark lashes. “ Don’t you call it ungracious 
to keep persistently out of a lady’s society, and very 
often to dodge away from her just when she is doing 
her best to amuse you ? And impolite to let every- 
body see that you dislike and are bored by her ? 
I ’ve known you to yawn as much as a dozen times 
while I have been tiffing to entertain you.” 

“ I beg your pardon, I am sure,” said Axel, look- 
ing at her with rather an ugly expression, and twist- 
ing the cuff-stud in a determined manner. 

“ Don’t do that ! you ’ll certainly snap it off,” ob- 
served his companion, laughing vexatiously. 

He released the stud, and put his hands behind 
him between the gate-bars. “ You ’re not fair, Mrs. 
Lecomte.” 

“ Well, that 's flattering, too ! ” said she, putting on 
a crestfallen air and giving him such a look of comic 


i8o 


AT DAYBREAK, 


reproach that he smiled a little, in an exasperated 
way. 

“ I mean, you ’re very hard upon me,” he explained, 
turning around and staring over the gate. 

“ Oh no, you ’re very hard upon Christina 

said, copying his movement. “You shouldn’t keep 
up your early antipathies in this way ; I call it really 
unjust.” 

“ Antipathies ? May I beg to know what you mean 
now ? ” 

“ Don’t dissimulate, if you please ! I know very 
well why you always detested me when I was a small 
child, and why you have never left off detesting me 
to this day.” 

“ Why, then ? — if you will have it so.” 

“ Because I worried your jackdaw and threw things 
at the pigeons and chip-birds.” 

Axel straightened up and broke into a roar of 
laughter. 

“ But that is n’t a sensible reason,” continued 
Christina, with an air of appeal, “for detesting me 
now, is it ? ” 

“ The child is mother of the woman,” said Axel, 
looking around and smiling at her in a more good- 
humored manner. 

“ Why,” said she, “ I ’m sure 1 ’m as amiable as 
never was with that horrid parrot Betty is so fond of, 
though it does address the most unpleasant remarks 
to me. And I never stone the pigeon-house ! ” 

“ Admirable self-repression ! ” murmured the young 
man. 


^^MAKING FRIENDSA 


i8l 

“ But I see what you mean,” she went on, in a soft 
and hesitating tone. “You think the same instinct 
is there yet; and that a child who finds amusement 
in teasing such small game is likely to find it with 
other kinds of game in later years. You .think, per- 
haps, that discretion is — what is that worn-out old 
saying about discretion .? ” 

“ Oh, I ’m not afraid of you, Countess,” retorted 
Axel, coolly, with a slight return of his shield-like 
manner. 

“I should hope not, indeed,” said Christina, 
promptly, putting on her frankest air. “ Neither 
afraid of me nor angry with me — you ’re not angry 
with me, of course. Axel ? ” 

“ By no means. Countess.” 

“ Because if you had been either, you would have 
been making a great mistake, you see, and very un- 
fair, too. Then we actually make friends, do we ? 
Why not be friends with me as well as Betty ? I. 
should like to be on good terms with you, truly.” 

“ Seriously, I never meant anything else, if you can 
take my word for it.” 

“ Oh — well,” said she, making an incredulous mo- 
tion. “ Shake hands upon it then, ‘ as a sign.’ If I 
did vex you a little, you ’ll forgive me, please ? ” 

She laid aside her teasing and significant airs, and 
looked at him simply with a direct and half-pleading 
look that was much the nearest way to Axel’s sensi- 
bility. He took the velvet hand that advanced 
toward him ; and as if to refute her charge of ungra- 
ciousness, made an extravagant bow over it and 
touched it lightly with his moustache. 


i 82 


AT DAYBREAK. 


This was a pretty tableau, that even an interested 
third Iverson might have admired without unpleasant 
feelings, having heard the previous conversation. Un- 
fortunately, Betty, who had entered the house by a 
back way and come through to a front window, wit- 
nessed the pantomime without hearing the dialogue. 
She stared a moment, and then started back and 
never looked again, as one does who is unlucky 
enough to stumble on a confidential tete-k-tete. This 
was perfectly unaccountable. Axel behaving in that 
extraordinary style, who had always seemed so indif- 
ferent even to her charming sister ! Poor Betty ! if 
she could only have heard the subsequent remarks of 
the two performers ! 

“ Now, then, I hope you are satisfied. Countess ! 
Yes, I ’ll forgive you, of course ; only you must take 
back your philippic on impoliteness. I can’t stand 
that, you know.” 

“ Very well. You ’re a perfect D’ Orsay ! I won- 
der I had n’t noticed it before. — And I ’m sorry I 
ever worried the jackdaw ! ” 

“Good! You ’re a nice girl, Christina, after all. 
There I did n’t you think you heard some one up at 
the house ? I believe some one has come in from 
the other side. You ’ll excuse me, won’t you ? and 
had n’t we better go up and see who it is ? ” 

He acted on his suggestion, and was out of sight 
in ten seconds. 

The young lady ought to have been satisfied with 
getting the friendly demonstrations she had asked 
for. But her face, now that she was alone, did not 


^^MAKING friends: 


183 


betray satisfaction. It wore the “ crooked smile ” 
that Betty disliked, and was colored red and white in 
a singular manner. She held in her hand a little lace 
thing that had been around her shoulders when she 
came out ; and as she went up the path she suddenly 
stopped and tore the piece of lace from edge to edge 
with a deliberate wrench. Then she walked steadily 
up to the house, and shut herself into her own room. 


AT DAYBREAK. 


184 . 


CHAPTER XV, 


A GHOST. 


DEPRESSING quiet seemed to settle on the 



Jr\ two houses when Axel was gone. They had 
not certainly been very noisy while he was. there ; but 
probably it was owing to the contrast between the 
last busy days of his stay and the listless, half-occu- 
pied ones that followed for the people left behind. 

During those “ last days ” there was a constant 
traversing the grounds between the two houses, much 
whistling and calling, unwonted activity on the stair- 
ways, and frequent express-parcels arriving from the 
city. The cause and object of all this stir was’ more 
excited than any one else. He rushed about in the 
most useless haste, singing and chattering as they 
had hardly known him to do in his knickerbocker 
days. Mrs. Brand quite grieved about it, that he was 
so eager for the separation. Betty, on some accounts, 
was inclined to be pleased. 

And then it was over ; and they had, for all re- 
source, the consolation of reckohing days before they 
could expect letters from their pilgrim. 

Betty went over regularly, as usual, for her talk 
with Mrs. Brand ; but there were some things that she 
did not speak of, long and often as they talked of 


A GHOST. 


185 


Axel. These things she only thought about. She 
would have no confidante but the familiar elms, which 
drooped their arms over her as she whispered her 
doubts and sadness to them in her old childish fash- 
ion, under the evening sky. 

With the cool days of autumn a plan was set on 
foot to send Betty to the city for a visit. She was 
looking paler than usual, they said ; a little change 
would improve her, and she could attend at the same 
time to a number of commissions for the family. 
Aunt Karlsen was written to, and sent at once a cor- 
dial answer hastening her niece’s coming. So the 
girl went away from Lyme with the last garden-flow- 
ers ; and found herself again in the great rooms 
which had witnessed her sister’s marriage-festival. 

Aunt Karlsen treated Betty with uncommon warmth, 
for her. She had never forgotten the unflattering 
early interview with her niece in the nursery, although 
she had to admit that this tall young lady seemed as 
gentle as anybody could wish. But if there was one 
person in the world for whom Aunt Karlsen had an 
actual weakness, it was her niece Christina; and 
Betty brought the latest news of the pretty idol, and 
talked about her with a warm admiration that just 
suited her aunt. 

“ You are not at all like her, Betty,” said the lady, 
taking a survey of her visitor, — “ not at all ; but 
you are much prettier than I ever thought you would 
be. Do you know what a horrid face you made up 
at me the very first time I went to see you ? ” 

“Yes, aunt; so they tell me. But I am sure that 


AT DAYBREAK. 


1 86 

I never can have had a fair sight of you,” said Betty, 
with tact, “ or I could n’t possibly have shown such 
very poor taste, even at that age.” 

In which Betty was not hypocritical, for she did 
think that enough remained of her aunt’s former 
good looks to justify anybody yet in calling her a 
handsome woman. A kind of faded-leaf beauty, but 
beauty still. And by similar engaging remarks, with 
the help of her own sweet face. Miss Betty dissipated 
her aunt’s old pique, and won her way into favor. 

“ I wish you to enjoy your little visit, my dear,” 
said Aunt Bertha, “ if you do cut it down to two 
weeks, which is ridiculous ! I cannot go out of even- 
ings so often as I used, on account of my health, but 
we will drive as much as possible by daylight ; and 
if at any time I am prevented from going, Richards 
shall drive you just where you like.” 

Betty’s tastes were simple ; everything amused her. 
She begged her aunt not to make any exertions on 
her account. 

“ I have quantities of errands to do for the people 
at home, aunt,” said she, — “ quantities ; and you 
have no idea how it amuses me to go on errands.” 

She liked walking, too ; and seldom troubled Rich- 
ards when her aunt was unable to go out. It was on 
the last day but one of her visit that she made a 
shopping expedition which she remembered as long 
as she lived. 

She had fancied that all the home commissions 
were disposed of, but suddenly recalled a little arti- 
cle on Christina’s list which had been overlooked. 


A GHOST. 


187 


It was a lilac feather of a certain shade ; Christina 
wanted it for a hat to be worn on some important 
occasion. 

“ No, thank you, aunt,” said Betty, “ it is n’t neces- 
sary to order out Richards for such a trifle. I shall 
like the walk. I won’t be away long; and I will 
bring you home something nice from Laurent’s — 
say a bag of chocolate.” 

Aunt Karlsen looked out of the window after her 
as she went down the street, and smiled agreeably. 
“ Yes, my namesake is quite — really quite a pretty 
girl. Not like her dear sister, as I said. There is 
something cool and fair about her — more in John’s 
style. But she is well-disposed and pleasing — yes, 
very much so ! ” 

Betty felt exceedingly happy that day ; a kind of 
animal happiness born of the bright spring weather, 
and the facts of being young, and healthy, and fair, and 
a wavelet of the human stream flowing through the 
pleasant streets. She felt very, very young — her 
life had been so simple, and its little romance so 
steady and pure. 

“ One’s love-story must needs be very sad indeed 
to worry one in this delightful sunshine ! ” said the 
young girl to herself, stopping a moment in a milli- 
ner’s doorway, and glancing back at the moving 
faces, all more or less brightened by the sunlight. 

As she did so, she saw that one was stationary, 
and watching her. 

It was not the first face that had turned toward 
her in her walk, and even turned after her to look at 


i88 


AT DAYBREAK. 


the blonde head on the well-poised neck. But it 
was the first one that she had noticed particularly ; and 
when her eye fell upon it, it seemed to hold her for 
an instant as by some magnetic force. And then 
she turned her back upon it, and went hastily in to 
do her errand. 

“ That was like the evil eye,” said. she to herself ; 
“ and yet he appeared to be a gentleman.” 

Then she forgot about it in searching for her 
feather, which was of a rather perplexing tint. She 
found it at last ; and was thinking, as she came out 
with it in her bag, how pretty the purplish down 
would look curling over Christina’s gold-flecked hair. 
And as she glanced up with a half-smile coming to 
her lips — there was the face again, its dark-eyed 
gaze at once wild and steady, full of a strange intel- 
ligence. It was not stationary any longer, but 
moving toward her with a visible intention. It came 
near enough for her to see the lines on its worn and 
tawny surface, the sprinkle of gray on its thin black 
beard ; and it stopped with a suspended and breath- 
less air. 

“ Betti ! — I have not deceived myself ? It is little 
Betti?” 

And then a great tremor of consternation seized 
upon her ; and she put up her hands and cried out 
faintly, “ Hector I ” 

“ Don’t — don’t look so terrified at me ! I am 
sorry to frighten you, little Betti ” — 

“ Ah, good heavens ! How is this possible ? It 
is not a ghost ” — 


A GHOST. 


189 


“ No, so much the worse,” said the battered shadow 
of Hector, with a look of sardonic misery. “ And yet 
— alas, yes ; I am a ghost ! It is a returned one 
that thou seest — yes, Betti. I come back to bring 
fear and repulsion ; no one will smile at me now, for 
a ghost is not a thing to smile at — eh, my child ” 

Betty was too confounded even to try for a solu- 
tion of the wonder. Afterwards she remembered, in 
thinking over the scene, how it had not once oc- 
curred to her that there could be anything to rejoice 
at in this startling resurrection of “poor Hector.” 

“ I don’t understand ” — she faltered out, taking a 
piteous scrutiny of his sallow, passion-beaten face. 
It was much changed ; it was badly marked by ill-, 
ness, and was yellower than ever, with the unfortu- 
nate addition of reddish traces here and there. 

“ Are you sure — is it really Hector ? ” she stam- 
mered irrationally, not quite conscious of her words. 

“ Come with me,” said Hector, touching her arm. 
“ People look at us, already. Come in here. I have 
much to say ; we must be by ourselves.” 

Betty followed him unsteadily. 

It was a restaurant which they entered. Hector 
beckoned a waiter and asked for a room ; they 
climbed a staircase to a little apartment with table 
and chairs, into one of which Betty dropped, quite 
limp ; the waiter stood inclining his ear deferentially 
for orders. This menial had a fancy for the 
dramatic; he scented something of it about the 
sickly-looking gentleman with a queer accent, who 
gave his order with such a confused air — some ice 


AT DAYBREAK. 


190 

— some wine — he did not appear to care much 
what was brought ; and the white young, blonde 
lady, who sat in her chair as if she never meant to 
move again, and hardly took her great eyes off her 
companion’s face. 

“ Where is my widow^ Betti ? ” said Hector, giving 
a hoarse, mirthless laugh as the door closed. 

“ At home — with us,” said Betty, faintly. “ Oh, 
Hector, what does it mean } ” 

“ Only that I made the mistake of recovering,” he 
answered, wiping his forehead. His hand quivered, 
either with passion or with weakness. “ Yes, I came 
back to life. And to what a life, just heaven ! 
When I regained my sense — when the fearful, the 
horrible sickness quitted me, my first thought was of 
her. I asked news of her incessantly ; they gave me 
but brief answers. At last, when I was nearly well, 
they told me that she was gone, without a word — 
she left me there as a dead man, and took her 
flight ! — And so she went back to you, did she ? 
What insanity J Did she think, if I lived, I would 
'not trace her out, follow her to the world’s end — 
Ah, wretch { ah, Christina ! ” 

“ But she did think you were dead — she did in- 
deed,” cried out Betty in horror. “ She came home 
in deep mourning.” 

“ Mourning ? ha, ha ! She did not wait to see D' 
returned Hector, in a violent whisper, leaning over 
the table, his dark eyes flashing balefully. “ She 
was glad of any pretext to get away from me. How 
does that seem to you, my little sister? What a 


A GHOST. 


191 

sweet wife I took from your father’s hands ! With 
her pretty pink face, her eyes blue as heaven, so 
gentle — how could one believe it of her ? ” 

“ I will not believe it,” exclaimed Betty, passion- 
ately. My sister I My mother’s child! No, it 
is not possible. There must have been some mis- 
take — there must ! ” 

“ Mistake ? I tell you the only mistake was my 
recovery. It is the worse for me, and it is the worse 
— ha ! yes — much worse for her. If she had cared 
for me at all ; if it had been only in weakness, 
cowardice, that she fled, I could forgive ” — 

“ I want to hear the whole of it. Tell me all your 
story,” said Betty, bracing herself, with a feeling of 
being about to lift and carry a heavy burden. 

(“One moment — the waiter,”) said Hector, wea- 
rily, as the clink of a tray advanced into the room. 
He filled his glass and Betty’s ; and emptied his own 
at once, as if getting up strength for his recital. 
The weaker slowly vanished, after exhausting every 
possible device for lingering about this fascinating 
pair. 

“Yes, you shall hear it all. It was for that I 
followed you. Your little pale face, as childlike as 
when I saw it last — ” He broke off in a husky, 
groaning sound, but began again directly. “ She 
hated me, your sister! At first she tolerated me — 
but I was too blind to see that that was all. Though 
I am a Frenchman, I was simple in those things. I 
w'as so simple as to think, ‘ If she will marry me it is 
because she gives me her heart.’ No, she could not 


192 


AT DAYBREAK. 


give it to me ; she has none to give. She smiled at 
me, your sister, because I could gratify her ambi- 
tions and her vanity. How did I find out this ? 
Oh, it was plain — it became clear even to my sim- 
plicity, but too late ! Then I grew bitter — my dis- 
appointment woke all the evil in me. I did not try 
to win her then ; I knew it was not possible — Oh, 
if it had been, how long before that would she have 
been won ! But after that — well, it is not necessary 
to describe the life that then passed. I am not a 
lamb ; perhaps you know that she is not, always. 
And then I watched her, for she has the caprices of 
the butterfly — For that, too, she hated me; but she 
took care never to betray our happy menage to our 
friends; — she is proud, you know — oh, proud as 
Lucifer, that sister of yours ! ” 

He stopped here and swallowed another glassful 
of wine ; and went on again with his rapid and 
broken monologue, scarcely looking at his listener, 
whose face was terribly pale. 

“ I was induced to go with some friends up the 
Gulf, to Muscat. I did not wish to leave her very 
long to her liberty, but they prevailed on me to go. 
You know what followed ; it is something most fear- 
ful to recall, that sickness ! All the time, when I 
could think of anything, I thought, ‘Now perhaps 
she will be softened ; when she knows how near I 
have come to my last hours, she will mourn a little, 
and try to care for me.’ And they gave me up ; 
they told her there was no possible hope of my 
life. What did she then, your sister ? She waited 


A GHOST, 


193 


no longer, in her eagerness to have done with me, do 
you see ? She assembled her baggages, took her 
maid, and fled in all haste — not an excuse, not a 
message left behind ! Then, after many days, I 
came back to the world, and felt that I should live. 
I demanded my wife.” 

He stopped again and passed his handkerchief 
over his forehead. The black locks of hair droop- 
ing on it, gray-streaked, were all limp and moist. 
Betty said no word, but sat looking at him with a 
helpless, humiliated face, as though listening to an 
accusation of herself. 

“ When I had heard all they had to tell me,” said 
Hector, in deepened tones, and with lurid eyes that 
gave ominous force to his words, “I should have 
lost my hold on life again, but for one thing, one 
hope. That was — V engeance ! ” 

“ What did you intend to do ? ” Betty asked sud- 
denly, in a faint voice. 

“To live. To live,” he reiterated, grimly. “To 
find where she had gone, and follow. Not to take 
her back — oh no, no, never ! Never that ! But to 
see her, and make her cringe in fear of me ! To 
come back as you recognized me, the menacing spirit. 
How well you guessed me, Betti ! ” 

“But you — you cannot want to see her now,” 
said Betty, becoming alive by degrees to a number 
of formless fears. “ All this being as you say, you 
cannot wish to see her, if you will not take her 
back ! Why need you follow her now, when she is 
well away from you and safe with us ? Her con- 
science must punish her enough ” — 


194 


AT DAYBREAK. 


Conscience / / Pfui! I tell you it is for me to 
play the role of conscience. Do you think I would 
miss my revenge for what she has made me endure 
No, no ! I am not the same man that I was once. 
I am evil — all evil ! ” 

“ Oh, no ; I cannot think that. You were so 
good — we were all so fond of you ! Think of my 
mother and father — of me — you were always so 
kind to me, the little shy girl, don’t you remember ? 
For our sake, at least, be forgiving ! Do listen to 
me ! Oh, Hector, if you cannot take her back, 
leave her to us, in peace ; and let me keep it all a 
secret from every one ! ” 

Hector stared at her as she pleaded, with a fierce, 
fixed face ; his dark eyes were dilated, as if visions 
were passing before them. He was silent for a mo- 
ment, and then put up both hands to clasp his fore- 
head. “ Oh Betti,” he cried out suddenly, “ I did 
love her ! ” And he threw himself forward on the 
table and burst into a fit of heavy sobbing. 

Betty had seen nothing like it before. Kept 
sheltered all her life from violent and dramatic emo- 
tions, she would have been horrified by it in the 
ordinary course of things ; but in this new sphere of 
passion and disorder to which she had been led, it 
seemed not unnatural. She only felt an immense 
pity for the man, blended with the bitterness of 
humiliation that his story had brought upon her. 

But she did not feel like joining in his tears. 
She sat and thought, her pale face growing into a 
stony earnestness. As he became still again, she 


A. GHOST. 195 

reached out her hand and touched him softly on the 
shoulder. 

“Poor Hector !” she said with a pitying solem- 
nity. “ I wish I could do something for you. It 
sounds so hard to ask you to go away ; and still, 
what else can I do ? — unless you forgive her. Will 
you try ? — Oh my sister, my sister ! ” 

She dropped her head in a crushed way as she said 
it. For many a day her eyes had been unsealed to 
the idol’s blemishes ; but never before had she faced 
it openly and confessed its utter weakness and de- 
formity. There was no room for doubt of Hector’s 
story. Truth was in every word, and every look of 
his wretched face ; she recognized it without a ques- 
tion. To her sensitive, honest nature the new-found 
stain took on the magnitude of a capital crime, and 
the disgrace of it was upon her no less than upon 
her sister. But all her feeling now was centred in 
one intense wish, to shield Christina from her hus- 
band’s anger, and to induce him to go away quietly 
and spare them, if possible, an exposure of the mis- 
erable affair. She had a wild hope that it could be 
done, if only her appeals would avail with the 
wronged and embittered man ; and she was ready to 
take on herself the weight of such a secret if so she 
might spare her mother and those others whom she 
loved. There was ^11 the strength and unreason of 
devotion behind the childish face and mild gray eyes. 

But oh, the emptiness of the niche in her heart which 
had been filled so long by the fair image of her sis- 
ter ! 


196 


AT DAYBREAK. 


Hector stirred directly, and lifted his seamed, tear- 
flushed face. He drew a long, fatigued sigh ; his 
ferocity seemed to have been drowned in his tears. 
Betty’s slight hand still rested on his arm ; he took 
it and held it in his unsteady grasp. 

** Kind little Betti ! ” said he, in a feeble, dispirited 
voice. “ It was a pity to torment you so. But I am 
evil, as I said — all evil. Do you forgive it, my good 
little one ? Perhaps I am a little — what you call 
‘ crack,’ ” he added pathetically, touching his fore- 
head. “And you are right, and I shall do as you 
say, Betti — I shall keep away. Although as to con- 
science — no, Dieu de Dieu^ she has none of that ! ” 

Betty’s dread began to vanish ; she saw that he 
was a broken creature, and that the violence which 
had been alarming her was like the flare and sputter 
of a spent flame. The knowledge of this moved her 
to a stronger aversion for her sister’s heartlessness, 
as she ceased to fear any vengeance on the part of 
poor Hector. 

“ If this could be repaired,” said she, “ if a recon- 
ciliation could be brought about — but I know, Hec- 
tor, you feel that it is not possible — perhaps it is 
not to be wished for. Only if it were so, you should 
see how I would welcome you, and how I would do 
everything I could to help make you reparation. I 
wdll as it is ; but there is so littla* — hardly anything 
I can do ; indeed, nothing more than to give you all 
the sympathy that one can feel for another. Re- 
member that a part of your burden is upon me, now. 
And I feel. Hector, that we never can expect her to 


A GHOST, 197 

change ; and as she is, it would be a hopeless thing 
to begin your life with her again.” 

“ A hopeless thing,” repeated Hector weakly, and 
looked, if possible, more crushed than ever. 

Before they separated he assured Betty over and 
over that he would do as she wished, and not make 
bad matters worse by any useless scene such as he 
had meditated. 

“You are right, Betti : France is the place for me. 
I will try to forget that I ever saw America. But I 
do not wish to forget your good little face ; it shall 
be one of my best memories, as if the apparition of 
an angel in my distress. Que le bon Dieu te benisse^ 
Betti/’’ 

He overcame some symptoms of another outburst ; 
and they went down into the street together, and 
parted with a silent grasp of the hand. His forlorn 
figure, going away, was so much more noticeable than 
when he entered that the curious waiter watched him 
from a window, and marvelled greatly, seeing his 
flushed face and wavering step, that the bottle of 
Chambertin was so little diminished. 

Betty went into an art-gallery, arid sat down by 
herself a while before going back to her aunt’s house. 
When she came out finally and walked along in the 
sunshine, it seemed as though years had rolled over 
her since she set oif so light of heart to find Chris- 
tina’s lilac feather. A lilac feather ! and that wretched, 
broken-spirited man wandering away, aimless and 
hopeless, to lose himself in other lands. Betty could 
have thrown down and trampled on the bag that held 


198 


AT DAYBREAK. 


the symbolic trifle. She remembered how earnestly 
Aunt Karlsen had favored Hector’s suit, and won- 
dered if the woman could have understood what she 
was doing. She had a moment of wrath against 
her ; but realized very soon that the kind, frivolous 
creature had only acted according to her views of life 
for the very highest happiness of her favorite. Betty 
could not doubt that she w'ould mourn as sincerely 
as any of them if she could know the end of all her 
planning. 

But it must be kept from her as from the rest ; 
and the young girl began preparing herself to 
look cheerful and unconcerned when her aunt’s eyes 
should be upon her again. She was not quite suc- 
cessful in this, it seemed. 

“ Why, my dear,” exclaimed the lady, as Betty 
walked quietly into her sitting-room, “ what has kept 
you so long? You look as if you had been seeing 
spirits. Did anything happen to you? You must 
be ill, child, I am sure.” 

“ No, Aunt Bertha, not ill at all,” said Betty, busily 
pulling off her hat and gloves. “I didn’t think it 
was so late. I am only a little tired, perhaps, with 
going about.” 

“ There ! I was sure of it ! Perfectly exhaust- 
ed ! ” cried Aunt Bertha, getting remorsefully 
agitated. “ I ought to have insisted on Richards’ 
taking you out ! You must go at once and lie down, 
child, and I ’ll have Willetts bring you some cordial ; 
and would you care for any tea, or does it make you 
nervous, my dear ? ” 


A GHOST, 


199 


“ Oh, Aunt Bertha, don’t be troubled about me,” 
said the girl, putting on a smile.* “ I am the health- 
iest being you ever saw, and I don’t require cordial 
in the least. But I will go to my room, if you like, 
and freshen myself a trifle for dinner.” 

She kissed her aunt lightly and went away. But 
at the door she wheeled around with a dismayed air. 
“ Oh, Aunt Bertha, I forgot your bonbons, after 
all ! ” 

“ Bonbons, indeed, child ! You look like travel- 
ling about after bonbons to spoil your old aunt with ! 
By the way, where ’s your bag, Betty ? ” 

“ My bag — Oh, dear me, I don’t know. If it 
is n’t here I must have dropped it on the way home, 
aunt. What a careless thing ! ” 

The bag was gone, lilac feather and all. Betty 
joined in her aunt’s lamentations ; but privately did 
not regret the feather, and resolved that now no 
article of that description should accompany her 
back to Lyme. 


200 


AT DAYBREAK. 


CHAPTER XVI, 


FRUE EKSTROM. 


LTHOUGH Axel had not been cherishing any 



l\. intentions of going to visit the Lindholms 
again, it was natural that they should often enter 
his mind when he had taken up his quarters so com- 
paratively near them. And as he thought of them, 
it seemed that civility would require him to pay his 
respects there, when circumstances should allow him 
to leave England. A year passed before he was 
able to do this ; and then he let the summer come 
around, as the proper time for a little Scandinavian 
trip. He thought he would devote a fortnight or so 
to it, stopping off at Liibeck to see the “ Dance of 
Death ” — an artistic duty which he had neglected 
in his former travels — and running up into Sweden 
afterwards. 

There was something pleasant in treading the 
well-known ground again, though it had not been so 
very long since he left it. He strolled around by 
the University buildings, and thought what an ugly 
old pile his Alma Mater was. He met some familiar 
faces, and stopped here and there for a greeting. 
Going along the “ King’s New Market ” he saw Max 
Lindholm, junior, just turning out of the curved 


FRUE EKSTROM. 


201 


entrance to the Exchange. Max had done with his 
military duties after six months of barracks ; gone 
into mercantile pursuits, married, and set up a nice 
little country-place in easy reach of the city. He 
was immensely stirred at the sight of his classmate, 
and tried to tell him all his own personal affairs on 
the spot. 

Axel asked him concerning his sister. 

“ Fredrika is well. You are aware,” he answered, 
“ that she married the Councillor Ekstrom soon after 
your return to America. The good Councillor was 
untimely gathered to his fathers ; and my sister is 
again in charge of our father’s house, with the aid of 
old Sigbrid. They are living in the same old place 
this year, and you must make haste to present your- 
self there. But now come along with me, and let me 
do the honors of my little box : I am just on the way 
home.” 

Axel enjoyed his hospitality for the night ; and the 
following day, having made a careful toilet, started in 
town to visit the scenes of so much former merry- 
making. 

The relict of the good Councillor Ekstrom had 
received word of his arrival, with what mingled fejel- 
ings may be imagined. The worthy Sigbrid felt as 
it were electricity in the air, and wisely kept much 
out of the way lest she should draw some of it upon 
herself. But Fredrika said very little about the ex- 
pected visitor. She merely observed to Sigbrid that 
they would have him to dine next day ; and recom- 
mended the- serving of certain things which he used 
to praise. 


202 


AT DAYBREAK. 


Axel was pleased to see everything unchanged as 
he entered the house, and the very chains upon old 
Sigbrid’s neck w^hich he had bought for her. He 
shook hands with her warmly, and gave her two or 
three joking compliments, which delighted the old 
lady’s soul. Then he went upstairs and was shown 
the room into which he used to bounce without cere- 
mony, where now the widowed Councillor-ess sat 
waiting to receive him. She rose and met him with 
great grace ; she was dressed for the occasion in 
imperial purple, over which her fair hair and dark 
eyes made a striking effect. In former days Mam- 
sell Fredrika had been notably indifferent to dress; 
this was one of the very few particulars in which she 
had matured with her age. Axel thought her look- 
ing very handsome, yet was somewhat repelled by 
the stiffness of her too gorgeous satins and the for- 
mality of her bearing. This formality soon wore off, 
however ; Fredrika was not able to keep it up. She 
was Fredrika still, hopelessly impulsive and undigni- 
fied. She was carrying on her side of the talk be- 
fore long with both purple-satin elbow^s squared upon 
the table in one of the naive attitudes thaT; Axel 
very well recollected. He was amused to notice her 
little fruitless attempts now and then to gather up 
something of her first dignity; and he thought she 
was much better without it. He said he was rejoiced 
to find the Frue Ekstrom in such good health ; and 
how fortunate her father was in having his household 
still under her management ! 

“Yes,” she said, “my father is very glad to have 


r 


FRUE EKSTROM. 


203 


me again to look after him. It is a little lonely here 
sometimes without Max or Albert ; you know Albert 
has gone on a long sea-voyage to learn something of 
the world. My friends are very kind; I am begin- 
ning to go anwng them once more, as of course I 
could not during the past year.” The Frue Ekstrom 
said this with an oddly solemn air, and cast a half- 
glance in the direction of a portrait on the opposite 
wall. 

“ That is the portrait of the late Councillor Ek- 
strom ? ” inquired Axel, respectfully, rising to look 
at it. 

Frue Ekstrom followed him, carefully carrying her 
pocket-handkerchief in her hand. ^ 

“ It was painted by a very good artist,” said she, 
with quaint, measured tones ; “ but we do not think 
that he succeeded in doing full justice to the Coun- 
cillor.” 

According to the painting. Councillor Ekstrom 
had been a florid person of abnormal size, whose 
curly white hair gave him not so much a rever- 
end air as that of the rosy old reprobates of the 
Op^ra comique ; he maintained a pose of laborious 
grace, and seemed to enjoy displaying a number of 
orders upon his coat. Axel gazed at him in silent 
amazement, and could not withhold a glance from 
the Councillor’s rubescent face at the brilliant figure 
beneath. Fredrika caught his eye ; it seemed to vex. 
her, for she flushed suddenly and played with her 
handkerchief. Axel felt a wicked desire to laugh, 
but saved himself by a clumsy murmur to the effect 


204 


AT DAYBREAK, 


that he should think, no doubt, the painter had not 
flattered, and a change of subject. His visit was not 
long extended after that ; he received his invitation 
to dine, accepted it with great thanks, and took his 
leave. As he went away the Councillor-ess rushed to 
get in range of the little mirrors, placed outside the 
windows after an old custom, which reflected the 
whole street for the invisible inmate. It had been a 
former habit of Axel’s to raise his hat playfully, in 
coming or going, to anybody within whom he could 
not see, but who might perhaps be there looking at 
him. He did it now mechanically, throwing back 
a bright upward glance at the little angle of mir- 
rors. 

« 

He had scarcely passed from sight before the old 
housekeeper bustled in, smiling, short-breathed. “ Is 
he coming to dinner to-morrow, Mamsell Fredrika?” 

“Yes, Sigbrid.” 

The old woman paused, and looked at her mis- 
tress — the sky seemed to be clear. “Wilt thou 
have a charm put in the soup to-morrow, dearest 
Mamsell ? ” she ventured, with a face at once humor- 
ous and anxious. 

Fredrika did not take it ill ; she laughed a little, 
excitedly, then became grave and meditated. 
“Ah, Sigbrid,”* she said, earnestly, “it is just the 
same I It is all just the same ! ” 

“ The same, my Fredrika ? ” 

“Yes — you understand. I am happy now, for 
the moment ; but how long will it last ? I was doing 
very well before this ; it was stupid and lonesome, 


FRUE EKSTROM. 


205 


and a blank, but one can endure that. When you 
hurt your hand, and it is numb, you don’t mind so 
much ; the worst of it is when it begins to wake up 
and tingle.” 

She dropped down on a sofa, embracing her 
elbows, in one of her negligent attitudes, quite dis- 
regarding the claims of the purple satin raiment. 

“ My dearest ! ” Sigbrid remonstrated, just as she 
used to when the baby Fredrika damaged her best 
frock, “ do be careful of that beautiful satin ! Look 
how you are treating it — and it crushes so quickly, 
too!” 

Her wilful mistress paid no attention, but stayed 
in her crumpled posture, appearing to ruminate on the 
preceding moments. Her eye rose to the painting 
of her late husband ; she seemed to recall something, 
reddened and started up, angrily. “ He laughed at 
it, Sigbrid,” she broke out ; “ he laughed at the 
Councillor’s portrait I ” 

“ Oh, dear Mamsell,” exclaimed Sigbrid, who had 
deeply reverenced the late Councillor’s importance, 
“ I cannot imagine it of the Herr Brand ! ” 

“ Of course he did not laugh openly ; but I could 
see in his face how it took him by surprise. It was 
not — not what he had expected to see. And then 
I caught his eye, and ther» was amusement it. Oh, 
but I was angry, Sigbrid ! ” 

Frue Ekstrom paced about with a red and tearful 
face, tugging at the corners of her handkerchief. 

“My child, my best child,” Sigbrid coaxed her, 
“ do be calm ! There may be great things in store 


206 


AT DAYBREAK. 


for you. At any rate the Herr Brand is here again, 
and you will see him often while he remains.” 

“Yes,” Fredrika said, with a long sigh, “he is 
here ; and I hope to see him often. It will be my 
fault,” she added, suddenly, in a passionate tone, 
“ if I ever lose sight of him again 1 ” 

Sigbrid wagged her headdress ominously as she 
slid out of the room. Many a wag of the headdress 
had Mamsell cost the good nurse. She had caught 
a flash of significant resemblance to the buried Else 
Oersted in her mistress’s dark eyes. 

Axel availed himself fully of the freedom of 
entrance which they all urged upon him. He had, 
as we know, the “ art of making himself at home in 
other people’s houses,” which in a thoroughly agree- 
able man is such an added charm, and which is so 
ill-understood on these shores. The Danes — most 
hospitable of people — quite appreciated him. He 
was loaded with attentions from old acquaintances, 
but preferred to keep mostly with the Lindholms, 
since he had made the journey principally on their 
account. Fredrika planned excursions, and showed 
herself a genius in conducting them. Max greatly 
enjoyed it all, and began to wish within himself that 
it might be managed to keep his friend permanently 
in Copenhagen. 

•“I wish you could. Brand,” said he, “ I really do ! 
There are places enough open to you. We should 
all be so delighted. Fredrika has such a high regard 
for you. There is something of the daemon about 
my sister,” he continued, reflectivel}^ “ but it is a good 


FRUE EKSTROM. 20/ 

little daemon, after all. Do you know, I wish you 
could persuade her to fall in love with you ! ” 

Axel did not feel it civil to say that he had no 
idea of trying to persuade her ; so he reserved the 
thought for himself, and uttered some polite banali- 
ties in a nice diplomatic jumble that might be under- 
stood almost anyhow. 

But Fredrika really interested him very much, 
with all her oddities, simplicities, and streaks of 
temper like heat-lightning ; she was so pretty, too, 
in her singular way, and there was such a touching 
awkwardness in some of her unstudied movements. 
He even thought several times that he should be 
sorry to leave her, and that he would arrange to run 
over to Denmark again for his next holiday. He 
had not yet mentioned to them the probable limit of 
his stay ; and they had quite the air of expecting 
him to spend the summer there. As the fortnight 
wore away, he thought it would be well to correct 
that impression ; and went around to the Lindholms’, 
meaning to do so before he left the house. 

It was half-twilight when he looked into Fredrika’s 
sitting-room. She was alone and sprinkling her flowers 
at the window. She was more simply dressed than usual, 
in white ; there was something about the light-haired 
figure, unaware of Axel, in its drooping attitude over 
the plants, that reminded him of Betty. He stood 
looking at her in the uncertain light, his thoughts for 
the moment more in America than Denmark ; and 
then she turned and started so that the mug of water 
sprinkled the skirt of her dress. 


208 


AT DAYBREAK. 


“ Thoughtless Herr Axel ! ” she cried, mopping at 
it with her handkerchief. “ Why did you stand there 
in the dark hall peering in at me like a bravo ? ” 

“ I was innocently looking at the tableau, Madame 
Fredrika,” said he. “ I am very sorry to have caused 
a deluge.” 

“ It ’s nothing,” said Fredrika, gayly. “ I will 
forgive you because I want to make an accomplice 
of you. I have a scheme on foot in which you will 
be interested.” 

“ There can be no doubt of that,” said Axel cor- 
dially. “ The question is, whether the time involved 
in your scheme is going to balance with the time at 
my disposal. You know I have n’t much more of 
that article at my command.” 

“ What ! ” said Fredrika, the brightness dying in- 
stantly out of her face. “You are not thinking of 
leaving us again ? ” 

“ My dear friend,” said Axel playfully, “ do you 
forget that I have any business but pleasure ? I 
had no idea of staying more than a fortnight at the 
most.” 

“ A fortnight ! ” breathed Fredrika, looking at him 
as if he were already fading from view. “ A fort- 
night ! And what shall we do then ? ” 

“ Do you want to add to my self-conceit ? ” said 
Axel, with a caressing laugh. “ I did not realize 
that I was such an important person ” — which was 
an unconscious fib. 

“ A fortnight ! ” she repeated. “ That leaves only 
three days more. Why, it’s ivtpossible 1 You can't 


FRUE EKSTROM. 209 

go then ! Do you know when Max’s birthday 
comes ? ” 

“ I have forgotten. Soon, I think.” 

‘‘One week from to-day. See, this is what we are 
intending to do. We are going to make up a party 
of his special friends and drive out to his country- 
house for a surprise, with all the preparations for a 
grand supper ; and we are to have music, a serenade 
of instruments ; and afterwards they will dance in 
the hall — you know what a nice little hall Max has 
on purpose for such affairs. Now, you can’t be so 
obstinate as to say you will spoil the whole occasion 
for us ! You will stay, won’t you ? ” 

“ It ’s a delightful plan,” said Axel, “ and you know 
I should be most happy to join in it ; but ” — He 
thought of the trip through Sweden, and of some 
people he had half-agreed to meet there ; of possible 
shooting, and a new game-bag strapped up among his 
impedimenta; and -remained unshaken. 

“ Were you going directly back to England ? ” 
Fredrika demanded. 

Then he admitted the game-bag, and the shooting 
possibilities. 

“ But you were not going on your excursion alone. 
Had you promised to meet any one ? ” 

He admitted that also ; a party of friends would 
probably be looking out for him next week. 

“ Old friends ? older friends than we are ? ” Fred- 
rika persisted. 

He laughed at her indulgently, as at a spoiled child. 
“ They are not so very old — about my age, on an 


210 


AT DAYBREAK. 


average. Well, they ’re a party of young English fel- 
lows, and there are one or two very good shots among 
them. It ’s a pleasant opportunity for me to do the 
country and try my luck with the black-cock. Should 
n’t you like to have me send you a nice little box of 
black-cock down ? ” 

“ No, I don’t care at all about the black-cock,” said 
Fredrika, impatiently, with a film of tears over her 
dark eyes. “You might go shooting herewith Max, 
instead of leaving us for a ‘party of English fel- 
lows ! ’ ” 

“ And shoot what ? Storks, or sandpipers ? ” said 
Axel, jokingly. But the girl had no ear for jokes ; 
she sat with her hands hanging down, and her head 
turned partly away ; but there was still light enough 
for him to see that she was the picture of forlorn woe, 
with the tears running helplessly over her face. 

This was awful. He had not really thought she 
would care like that. 

“You don’t mean to say it’s of so much conse- 
quence to you ! ” burst out the soft-hearted fellow, 
jumping up in acute distress. “ Oh don’t, now, don't ! 
Good heavens ! Why, four days’ difference — Look 
here, Fredrika, I ’ll throw over the shooting — I will 
indeed ; and I ’ll stay over Max’s birthday, and help 
about the surprise ! Now, will that suit you ? ” 


EXP LANA TIONS. 


21 1 


CHAPTER XVII. 


EXPLANATIONS. 



UNT KARLSEN had tried hard to prolong 


Jr\. her niece’s visit, but Betty would not be per- 
suaded. She had a nervous dread of seeing her 
sister again, and wanted to get it over. She did not 
know whether she would tell Christina at once or 
not ; that had better be left to chance, she thought. 

Of course she had begun to puzzle out apologies 
for her sister’s conduct, though it was rather a hope- 
less attempt. Her favorite reflection w'as that poor 
Christina was so childish, after all ! She must have 
acted on a moment’s impulse, and been afraid after- 
wards to confess or investigate. It was proof enough 
of her childishness that she iiad dared Jto come home 
to them with her fictitious grief and mourning-mum- 
meries, and was able to take things so easily and 
smoothly. But Betty remembered the pale, fixed 
face that she had sometim-es surprised alone, the 
blue eyes all darkened and thoughtful. What mis- 
givings were then visiting the shallow heart ? and 
was there by any possible chance a conscience there 
to be stirred ? 

It hardly looked like it, thought Betty, as she met 


212 


AT DAYBREAK. 


Christina in fine raiment, waiting with the others on 
the doorsteps to welcome her back. 

“Why, she looks as pale as ever, mamma, upon 
my word ! ” cried the young lady airily, releasing 
Betty from her violet-silk embrace. 

“ Our lily is more like a wax-lily than before, I re- 
gret to see,^^ said Dr. Brand, holding her off with a 
paternally anxious face. 

“ My dear love,” said her mother, “what has Aunt 
Bertha been doing with you, that you come home to 
me looking like the survivor of a wreck ? ” 

“ Bertha must have piled on the gayety pretty 
heavily,” added Mr. Karlsen, “ to have finished the 
child up like that in two weeks’ time ! A nice way 
to recuperate ! ” 

“ Why, my precious people,” Betty protested, try- 
ing with all her might to look rosy, “ something is the 
matter with your eyes 1 I never was better, truly ; 
Aunt Bertha has taken the greatest care of me. 
She is very quiet now, and seldom gives entertain- 
ments.” 

“I hope Aunt Bertha isn’t getting dull,” said 
Christina. “ I can’t fancy her being dull. Is she 
moping without me, do you think ? ” 

“No, I didn’t notice that she moped,” Betty 
answered, turning away. Christina’s sprightly assur- 
ance hurt her ; the rustling puffs and ruffles irritated 
her. She saw all the time an image of an unhappy 
face, a prone and miserable figure tossed by its sob- 
bing ; and her heart grew older and heavier every 
hour with remembering it. 


EXP LANA TIONS, 


213 


“ But I will not say anything yet,” she thought ; 
“ not until I see some reason for it.” 

Mr. Musgrove came next day and spent the after- 
noon with them. Christina made a special toilet for 
the occasion, and put into her belt a cluster of hot- 
house flowers from a dish in the parlor. “Where 
did you get those ? ” Betty asked her. 

“ Some one gave them to Mr. Musgrove yester- 
day,” Christina answered, with a pretty cock of the 
head, “ and he sent them in to me. Was n’t it charm- 
ing of him "i ” 

They had a letter from Axel to discuss before 
dinner; and after it Mr. Musgrove sang and Chris- 
tina played for him, and the two talked apart in the 
intervals. Betty sat on a hassock against her 
mother’s knee, looking on in a tired kind of way. 

“ Mr. Musgrove seems to enjoy himself very well. 
He is such an interesting young man,” murmured her 
mother, watching them with a gentle significance 
just falling short of a smile. “ It is very pleasant 
for Christina, but I hope she is not inclined to trifle 
with him.” 

“Trifle with him?” repeated Betty, lifting her 
head*suddenly. “ What do you mean, mamma? ” 

“Oh, bless you, dear, you needn’t defend her! 
I’m sure the poor child wouldn’t consciously hurt 
him for anything ; but after all, they say there ’s a 
love of power in everybody, and it’s more of a 
temptation to try it on a person when he gets into a 
state of subjection, no doubt.” 

“ Do you mean to say, mamma,” whispered Betty 


214 


AT DAYBREAK. 


with unconcealed horror, “that Mr. Musgrove has 
taken a fancy to Christina, and that she knows and 
allows it ? ” 

“Well, really, my dear,” smiled her mother, in a 
deprecating way, “ why not ? Have n’t we all been 
wishing that Christina’s mind could be diverted from 
her troubles ? Indeed, I think it would be a very 
good thing for her. Now that she is out of mourn- 
ing, you know, there ’s nothing singular about it. 
We certainly don’t want her to renounce the world, 
dear. No one could advise that for her, I ’m sure, 
at her age — and with her face.” 

Mrs. Karlsen’s eyes rested on her elder child with 
a gleam of motherly admiration. She had easily 
taken up the habit of affection which Christina’s 
wilful girlhood had denied her ; she was perhaps 
making up to herself for that long season of partial 
estrangement. 

Betty saw the look in her mother’s face. 

“ No,” said she to herself, sinking back in deter- 
mined silence, “ my mother must not know. I am 
afraid to have her know. Whether I am wrong and 
foolish or not, while I can help it she never shall 
know ! ” 

The flowers were gone from Christina’s belt when 
she came upstairs that night with her candle. Betty 
noticed it from where she leaned waiting against the 
window. Once she would not have observed such a 
trifle with suspicion, but that time of happy simplic- 
ity was gone away forever. She had heard Christina 
humming one of the rector’s songs as she mounted 


EXP LANA TIONS. 


215 


the staircase, and her heart instantly hardened. 
Her small pale face was paler than usual ; she felt 
that its look was stern, and she did not try to soften 
it. 

Christina was not slow of observation either ; she 
flashed a ray from the candle toward her sister be- 
fore setting it on the mantel. A rosy wood-fire was 
crackling below in their little grate ; the two lights 
blended softly and painted her lovely hair. She 
pulled off its ribbon and shook it into a cloud around 
her face. 

“ There ’s a frost to-night,” said she, patting her 
white hands together, with a sidelong inquiring 
glance. “ Don’t, stay there by the cold window, 
child ! You look frozen. Why don’t you come over 
by the fire and get warm ? ” 

“ I don’t see your flowers, Christina,” said Betty, 
passing over the question. You have lost them 
out.” 

Her sister laughed, and fingered the despoiled 
belt. “Well, not exactly. They have returned 
whence they came. Our clerical friend took a vio- 
lent fancy to have them back ; and so, as he seemed 
to want them a great deal more than I did — I let 
him.” 

“ I suppose,” Betty said frigidly, after a slight 
pause, recalling Rose Harrod’s chatter, “ that it is 
what they call flirting, isn’t it?” 

“Why — you may call it that if you like,” said 
Christina, looking rather astonished. “Very mild 
sort, though, I should say. What makes you so odd. 


2I6 


AT DAYBREAK. 


Betty, to-night ? Suppose we call it flirting, have 
you any objections ?” 

“ Can you think of no reason,” returned Betty, 
calmly, “ why one should object ? No reason why 
you ought to be shocked at the mere idea of such a 
thing ? ” 

“You are very old-fashioned, child — more than I 
imagined. Shocked, indeed ! Mamma has n’t 
showed any signs of being shocked at me, yet; 
and ” — 

“Oh, Christina, she doesn’t know — she doesn’t 
know — what I know ! ” 

“ ‘ Does n’t know ? ’ What do you mean ? ” 
Christina’s color varied, and her eyes blackened as 
she darted them sharply into her sister’s face. 

“ No ; and she must n’t know — nobody must but 
we two. I will keep it — I will help you. Last 
week, in the city, I saw a ghost ” — 

“ A ghost ! ” Christina gave a little cry, and 
glanced shiveringly over her shoulders. 

“Hush! — no, not a ghost,” Betty went on, mov- 
ing nearer the fire, “ though I almost thought so at 
first. But it spoke with me, in the street ; and it was 
— it was — like one raised from the dead!” She 
stopped, clasping her hands, and hoping that her 
sister would understand. And she did. 

“ Do you mean,” she asked immediately, in a hard 
whisper, “ that you saw him ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Betty, “ I saw himl'* 

“ Then,” said Christina, slowly, “ they were wrong ? 
They deceived me ? ” 


EXPLANATIOA^S. 


217 


“ They were deceived — yes.” 

The two looked at one another in silence for some 
moments — it seemed a long, long time ; and Chris- 
tina’s face settled into the white mask of apprehen- 
sion that it sometimes wore when she was alone. 
Then she slowly cowered down into a little chair that 
stood before the grate, and held by its arms like a 
terrified child. She seemed all at once quite an- 
other creature. 

“ I am afraid,” she said in a smothered voice. “ I 
don’t know what he ’ll do ! Oh, what did he come 
here for ? But I never will go to live with him again, 
never, never — not for all the money in India ! ” 

“You need not be troubled about that; he does 
not wish to take you back. And he will not do any- 
thing to hurt you ; he is on his way home already. 
You will never see him again.” 

“ Oh, are you sure ? ” She shook her head in 
frightened doubt. “ You don’t know him. Oh, 
dear, dear ! ” She commenced to rock back and 
forth, wringing her small fingers. “ Why could n’t 
he have died } ” 

“ Hush, Christina ! ” said the other sternly. She 
was perceiving more clearly the extent of the gulf 
that separated her from her sister. “ You must con- 
trol yourself. This may perhaps be kept to our- 
selves — I mean that it shall. I have carried it 
about with me now for — oh, only for a week, but it 
has seemed like years. And I shall carry it to the 
end of my life, and you will do the same. This is 
for the sake of my mother and the family. Perhaps 


2I8 


AT DAYBREAK. 


you can understand why I will have it kept from my 
mother, at all costs. I don’t know what effect such 
a disgrace might not have upon her. You have 
played your part quite perfectly all this time ; surely 
you can play it through.” 

Betty was not able to keep the bitterness out of 
her tone, and she expected that her sister would be 
stirred to a defence, or to a show of remorse. But 
Christina’s mind seemed completely absorbed in fear 
for her own safety. “ How did you happen to meet 
him ? ” she asked, eagerly. “ Was he looking for 
me ? What could have kept him from going straight 
to Aunt Bertha ? ” 

“ I suppose he had just come into the city,” Betty 
answered dully. “ He found me by the merest 
chance. I was of course too much startled to ask 
all the questions that I have thought of since.’’ She 
shuddered in recalling the scene ; but this did not 
seem to affect her listener, who leaned forward put- 
ting up her nervous apprehensive face. “ Why did 
you do it, Christina ? ” 

“/do it ! Do what I You are not going to hold 
me responsible for his appearance, I hope — me, of 
all’people ! when I ’d give anything if he were only 
six feet underground at Bombay, where I supposed 
he was — yes, I would ! I can’t imagine what you 
mean ! ” 

Betty stared down at her, doubting her own eyes 
and ears. No, there was not a shade of self-con- 
demnation on that pretty, agitated face, no breaking 
of the voice except the quaver of selfish alarm. 


EXP LANA no NS. 


219 


“ I mean,” she said distinctly, “ your conduct in 
the whole affair from the first ; but in particular your 
last freak of abandoning your sick husband — de- 
ceiving us with false reports of his death — with your 
mourning — in every way — for mercy’s sake, Chris- 
tina, you can’t need to be told what you have 
done ! ” 

“ Why,” exclaimed Christina, “ why, I was not de- 
ceiving you ! I was deceived myself. They told me 
he was the same as dead — you know they did. 
There was not the least chance for him. What was 
the use of risking my life by staying in that awful 
place, when I knew he was not going to get well ! I 
can tell you I was glad enough to make my escape. 
There was Lisette frightened out of her senses about 
the spread of the epidemic, and I was not much 
better ! I thought my life was of some value, but 
it seems as though you would n’t agree with me. 
Perhaps you would be glad to have me go back and 
expose it over again ! ” 

Her voice mounted a little, and she showed some 
disposition to cry. 

Betty remained unmoved. “And so,” said she, 
“you have been quite easy in your mind about it all 
this time ! ” 

“ Easy ? Why, indeed I have not ! I can’t think 
what you take me for ! It would come into my head, 
every little while, ‘ What if the doctors were mistaken, 
after all ? ’ or, ‘ What if he should make up his mind 
to get well, so as never to let me away from under his 
dreadful eye 'i ’ — for you see if he once made up his 


220 


AT DAYBREAK. 


mind to get well, all the doctors in India would n’t have 
made any difference ! Oh, you see you don’t know 
him. No, you have no idea what I have gone through 
with that man ! If you had you would n’t wonder 
that I snatched at the first chance to get away from 
him. I suppose he told you that I hated him, did 
he .> ” 

“Yes,” said Betty. 

“ Well, he was right. I do ! Anybody would, 
kept like a state prisoner as I was. And always be- 
ing raved at, and reproached with accepting him for 
his wealth ! As if that was n’t a natural reason 
enough! What should he suppose I accepted him 
for, I wonder ? ” 

She stopped to dwell upon the hopeless absurdity 
of the question. 

“ Of course,” she went on, as Betty made no at- 
tempt at answering it, “ I could n’t have come away 
if he had been expected to live. I felt as if some- 
thing was pushing me and saying, ‘ Take your chance, 
quick, now that he can’t stop you 1 ’ And I hardly 
slept till we got into France. The mourning, you know 
— why, what else could I have done ? What would 
you have thought to see me without it ? I thought if 
anything should happen — if there was any mistake, 
you know — I should have had a breathing-space at 
the least. I would n’l stop to think anything further 
about it. As for telling you and mamma all the par- 
ticulars — why, it did n’t seem at all the right thing. 
It would only have disturbed you, and you would not 
have understood.” 


EXPLANATIONS. 


221 


“ No, I dare say we should not have understood,” 
said Betty, with faintly ironical wonder. She stood 
contemplating the image of excited beauty in the 
firelight, and recalling fragments of Hector’s fever- 
ish talk. Some bare vines flicked against the win- 
dow-panes ; the east wind blew mourningly through 
them, around the house-corner, and reminded her of 
his demonstrative wretchedness. 

“ He spoke,” she said, pondering, after a while, 
“ as though he had been some time looking for you. 
I remember that he implied not being at all certain 
where you had gone. I don’t understand that. How 
could he help knowing that you would come straight 
home ? ” 

“ Ah ! Perhaps,” said Christina, meditating, 
“perhaps he fancied I had gone away with some 
one.” 

“ With some one ? ” Betty said after her. “ With 
whom should you have gone away ? ” 

“ Why, I should n't., of course ; but he was so abom- 
inably suspicious he would be just as likely as not to 
think so ! There was more than one I might have 
gone away with, if I had been that kind of a light- 
headed person.” 

A smile actually glimmered in her eyes, through 
all her disturbance, at those flattering recollections. 
The smile was unintelligible to Betty ; but the words 
forced themselves into her reluctant understanding. 
For Betty had never read Balzac ; and the world set 
forth in his unsparing pages was as strange to her as it 
was fatally familiar to Christina. Even after all she 


222 


AT DAYBREAK. 


had learned, such speeches as this came, and would 
always come, with a fresh shock upon her inno- 
cence. In her utter disgust and dejection she 
forgot to be thankful for the mitigating fact that at 
least her sister had not gone away “ with some 
one.” 

She turned her back upon her and walked despair- 
ingly to the window again. It had been a strain upon 
her nerves. She felt herself weakening, and the 
tears ran suddenly down her cheeks. A load of 
disgrace seemed to rest on her helpless shoul- 
ders ; for a moment she almost wished that her 
mother knew, so that she might go to her for com- 
fort. 

While Christina was occupied in talking about her- 
self her fears had retired to the background; but 
now she was seized with a fresh access of alarm. 
She got up and began to pace back and forth, keep- 
ing up a distressed murmur about what “ he ” would 
be certain to do; and finished by throwing her- 
self on the bed face downward, in a fit of nervous 
crying. 

Betty looked on stonily, her own tears checked. 
“ I am getting quite hard,” she thought. “ But it is 
better to see her like this than so light and unfeeling. 
It does n’t seem to me as if I could ever touch her 
again ! How can she belong to us ? I would sooner 
think she was a ‘ changeling,’ such as my old story- 
books told of.” 

Then, as her sister gave no signs of becoming 
quiet, but kept up a sort of hysterical gasping which 


EXPLANATIONS. 223 

might be heard beyond the room, she went and tried 
to hush her. 

“ Christina, mamma will hear you ; and it is not of 
the least use to have hysterics now. I told you no 
one was going to hurt you ; and as long as you are 
not concerned about anything else, you may as well 
make yourself easy. Come ! He has gone away, I 
am certain ; I have his promise not to disturb you. 
Do hush ! Maria is going across the landing.” 

By and by Christina was still ; and then came a 
turn of the tide in her spirits as sudden as if she had 
been perhaps ten years old. 

To be sure,” said she, sitting up on the bed and 
heaving a long, relieved sigh. “ I should n’t think 
he would want to see me again now. Not because 
he does n’t care about me, of course. But he knows 
very well how unhappy he made me, and I have no 
doubt his conscience reproaches him! He knows 
that nothing would induce me to go back, once I 
got away. But I was terribly frightened, at first — 
so vindictive as he is, and so unmanageable! — Did 
he look very, very ugly, Betty ? The mere thought 
of him makes me creep ! ” 

“ There is one thing, Christina,” said Betty with 
earnestness, as she recalled her starting-point, “ that 
must positively stop, and that is your behavior to 
Mr. Musgrove. He shall not be played with ; and 
it is perfectly abominable for you to like it, under 
the circumstances.” 

“ I have no intention,” returned Christina haught- 
ily, “ of injuring your Mr. Musgrove in the least.” 


224 


AT DAYBREAK. 


She went to sleep afterwards readily enough, 
though dreams visited her and made her talk and 
cry out once or twice. Her wakeful companion 
spoke to her and laid a steady little hand upon her 
arm. After that she slept silently ; and Betty lay 
and listened to her full, soft breathing. 


THE PRINCE FALLS UNDER A SPELL, 225 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

THE PRINCE FALLS UNDER A SPELL, 

I T was a hard year for Betty. She used to wish 
sometimes that her sister would go and spend it 
with Aunt Karlsen, and so relieve her for a while 
from part of her daily trial. 

For Christina by no means retained the serenity 
with which she fell asleep in the last chapter. She 
behaved as usual among the family, but made up 
for it when alone with Betty by long and extraordi- 
nary unfoldings of her mental processes. She seemed 
to find great satisfaction in rehearsing the griev- 
ances of her life with Hector; and she put on at 
those times an air of mysterious confidence that 
tried and disgusted poor Betty, and made her feel 
like a partner in some piece of wickedness. There 
was but one thing from which she could get any 
comfort in this connection. It was a suspicion that 
her sister’s strangely warped or stunted moral nature 
was undergoing some change, as time went on, per- 
haps through contact with the healthier natures in 
her father’s household. Her monologues on the 
theme of her domestic trials began to take a defen- 
sive tone, as though with a dawning sense that some- 


226 


AT DAYBREAK, 


thing in the way of apology might not be uncalled 
for. 

Now and then Betty found her alone and seeming 
to meditate, with that wan fixed look, which she no 
longer took the trouble to hide at her sister’s coming. 
Yet, if visions of her errors haunted and condemned 
her, she cowered before them in silence and never 
brought herself to confess it, although by-and-by the 
flood of her querulous confidences seemed to have 
received a check. 

Betty, of course, softened toward her in making 
these observations, and in seeing her demeanor 
toward Mr. Musgrove, from whom, for a long time, 
she pointedly kept aloof. It did not last, however. 

The rector continued his visits as usual during the 
year ; but no more of his flowers adorned Christina’s 
belt-ribbon or the drawing-room vases. Mrs. Karl- 
sen noticed a change of atmosphere, and also be- 
came sensible of Christina’s nervousness and 
uneven moods. 

“It seems to me,” she said to Betty one day, 
“that I am constantly having to worry over one or 
the other of my children. First I worry about your 
health because you look paler than usual ; and then 
I worry about Christina’s health because she grows 
so serious. Don’t you see that she is growing seri- 
ous, instead of getting more like herself? Your 
papa has noticed it, too. How do you account for 
it, dear?” 

Betty tried to account for it in some reassuring 
way, to avoid more questioning; and afterwards 


THE PRINCE FALLS UNDER A SPELL. 22/ 


warned her sister that she was becoming an object 
of family anxiety. 

Christina started and fluttered at the suggestion. 
Certainly she was very much more nervous than she 
used to be. 

But she evidently took the warning to heart, and 
made quite successful efforts after that to revive the 
careless airiness to which they were accustomed in 
her as a young girl. At the same time she ceased 
her avoidance of Mr. Musgrove. 

Twice the spring rains fell, setting all the Lyme 
roads afloat and washing the garden-beds clear of 
snow. For the second time had the black earth 
turned green, afnd crocuses mottled it prettily here 
and there. A mysterious sweetness crept into the 
air, recalling to Betty the old springtimes when she 
waited with childish impatience for Axel to come 
home. This springtime would not bring him, nor 
would many another. It brought news of him, 
truly ; news that spoiled the sunshine of the May 
days, and of his mother’s beautiful eyes. 

Betty felt that something was wrong, but dared 
not ask. Then she caught a glimpse of the Doctor’s 
face one day, in his library, so troubled and wrath- 
ful that she hardly knew it ; and for the first time 
heard him speak angrily in his wife’s presence. 
Mrs. Brand came out directly, closing the door be- 
hind her ; and went toward Betty with her face as 
pale as wax. 

“ He had better be alone a while,” said she. 
“ Go over and tell your mamma, dear, that I will 
come to her in a half-hour or so.” 


228 


AT DAYBREAK. 


The girl slipped home in dismayed haste. She 
gave the message ; and went to walk up and down 
the darkened music-room till Mrs. Brand’s long 
conference with her mother was over. There was 
a premonition in her heart which grew and grew, 
and she would not try to drive it away. That old 
vision of the Deer-forest rose before her again : the 
carriage-load of gay pleasure-hunters, of whom she 
was not one ; and the fair moonlit face with flying 
hair, whose name she had never forgotten — how 
very fair it was ! It flitted before her in the dark- 
ness, mockingly. She was certain — absolutely cer- 
tain — of what she should presently hear. She stole 
upstairs, as soon as the side-door had shut, and 
she had seen her friend’s figure, muffled in a shawl, 
glide despondently along the footpath. 

“ Mamma, may n’t I come in ? What has Axel 
been doing ? I know he is not ill, for the Doctor is 
so angry. But he must have done something very 
dreadful — do tell me!” 

“Well, yes, poor fellow, it is rather dreadful — for 
his parents. We can’t call it exactly criminal ; still 
I don’t wonder that the Doctor is angry. It seems 
that Axel has engaged himself to a lady over there, 
with never a word to his father and mother ; and 
they heard of it only two days ago.” 

“It is so, then ! Yes, I was — I suspected it was 
something of that kind ” — Betty hoped that her 
face was steady. She knew that her voice was not, 
but trusted to her mother’s excitement for escape 
from notice. 


THE PRINCE FALLS UNDER A SPELL. 229 


“And now Axel himself writes to tell them of it; 
and to cap the climax, says that the marriage will 
have taken place by the time they read his letter ! 
He admits that he feared his father’s disapproval ; 
that was why he kept it all so quiet. Their first inti- 
mation of it came from the Doctor’s friend, Mr. 
Lindholm.” 

“ It is that Fredrika, then, I suppose,” Betty inter- 
jected. 

“Oh, you remember her name, dear? Yes, it is 
the Fredrika he used to tell us of; but she was no 
longer a Miss Lindholm. She had been married to 
a prominent man, a Councillor Ekstrom, who died 
shortly after. I suspect, from Mrs. Brand’s account, 
that she had all along been fond of Axel ; and they 
seem to feel that he has been rather drawn into it in 
spite of himself. They can only surmise, of course, 
at this distance. Poor Mrs. Brand says she is will- 
ing already to forgive her, if only she will make him 
happy.” 

“Yes, one can forgive her, if she will make him 
happy,” echoed Betty, softly. 

“ But the Doctor is not going to take it so easily. 
He is terribly grieved and bitter against Axel, and 
enraged at the Lindholms.” 

“Oh, he looked so this morning, mamma, you 
can’t think ! I was frightened at him. How is it 
that he minds so much, when Mr. Lindholm was such 
a dear friend of his ? Of course. Axel behaved very 
badly in leaving them out of the question ; but it is 
not as though he had married some one whom they 


230 


AT DA YBREAK. 


could not accept. It might have been worse, 
might n’t it ? ” 

“Why, you see, my dear. Axel is so young — in 
their eyes at least. And if you remember, this Fred- 
rika is considerably older than he ; some years older, 
at any rate. Besides, there is the uncertainty which 
they must feel about her fitness for him — a complete 
stranger to them ! It is very bitter for them both ; 
I can appreciate it.” 

Mrs. Karlsen thought of other reasons, too, why 
it should be bitter for the Doctor, but she did not 
speak them. She only murmured again, in soft sym- 
pathy: “Axel is so young, and so honest. Poor Axel ! ” 

“ Poor Axel ! ” repeated Betty very gently, with a 
long breath. 

After that she went away quietly, and had 
another half-hour of solitude in her refuge, the 
music-room. Whether she indulged in any private 
lamentation or not, there were no witnesses except 
the kind but stony faces of her musical idols around 
the walls. If any tears were wasted on that occa- 
sion, no disappointment was mingled with them. 
She had expected nothing better, so there could be 
no disappointment. If it was not to be Fredrika 
Lindholm, why then it would be some other woman 
over there ; that was settled in her mind long ago. 
In spite of all her visions and air-castles — and few 
girls had more — and in spite of the teasings of her 
friend Rose, she had never figured in those visions 
as the chosen of the Prince. He was always fond 
of her ; but she had a feeling that the highest honor 


THE PRINCE FALLS UNDER A SPELL. 23 1 


was reserved for some fair unknown in the broad 
circle of the world where her Prince was free to 
travel, and toward which she looked wonderingly 
and with a kind of gentle envy. He would come 
back to her some time — oh yes, that was certain; 
but as he had always come — in no other wise. 

Betty must have been a super-earthly young lady 
if she had not found some satisfaction in recalling 
that the new Mrs. Brand was once Mrs. Somebody- 
else, and was now a good deal older than Axel. But 
this bit of selfishness she dismissed very soon ; and 
threw all the warmth of her warm heart into the re- 
iterated wish that Axel might be happy, might be 
always and absolutely happy ! 

When she went into her own room after the half- 
hour, Christina was there, restlessly tumbling over 
some ribbons on her dressing-table. She looked up 
as her sister entered, showing a red spot on each 
cheek. Betty felt quite sure at once that she knew 
all about Mrs. Brand’s letter. 

“Well,” said she presently, in a rather high-keyed 
voice, “ it is a pretty affair, is n’t it ? ” 

“ Did mamma tell you about it ? ” asked Betty 
calmly. 

“ I heard her telling you. I happened to be in 
papa’s dressing-room, and overheard a little. Your 
Axel has got himself into a nice fix, it seems, with 
his infatuated old lady ! ” 

“ She is not an old lady at all,” said Betty, instantly 
taking up arms for the unknown bride. “ She is 
a sister of one of his classmates, and she is only a 


232 


AT DAYBREAK. 


few years older. Axel would never have married an 
old lady. Perhaps she is infatuated — I shouldn’t 
Avonder in the least.” 

“Of course she is — didn’t his mother say so.^ 
One would not have fancied that the poor fellow was 
so simple ! He ’ll be sorry enough before long, I 
dare say ; perfectly sick of life, most probably.” 

“ Oh, I hope not I I do hope she will be good to 
him ! Indeed, I am sure she will,” said Betty, turn- 
ing away to her work-basket. She was irritated by 
her sister’s tone, and resolved not to discuss the sub- 
ject any further with her. But Christina, she found, 
was disposed to keep on talking. 

“ Perhaps now,” went on the older young lady, 
after a moment of energetic fluttering among the 
ribbons, “perhaps now you’ll condescend to take 
more favorable notice of Jack Leavitt, after this. It 
is n’t often that a man of his value can be found 
w'aiting round so patiently, ready to play Hobson’s 
choice any time you like.” 

The younger sister’s cool Northern temperature 
suddenly rose several degrees. 

“ May I ask,” said she, with her small head very 
upright, “ why you should expect me to take any more 
notice of Mr. Leavitt — ‘ after this ? ’ ” 

“You’ll be very foolish if you don’t. You were 
very foolish not to have done so before now, in my 
opinion ; but of course every one must judge for her- 
self, and if you were so desperately fond of Axel 
Brand all along, you naturally did n’t care to notice 
Jack. however ” 


THE PRINCE FALLS UNDER A SPELL. 233 


“ Christina,” said the younger girl, in a tone of 
mingled despair and disgust, “ I don’t know whether 
you can possibly understand this or not, but I hope 
you ’ll try. Jack Leavitt and his property are a mat- 
ter of absolute indifference to me, quite independent 
of any other person or circumstance ; and as for 
Axel, fond of him as I certainly am, I have never 
once expected anything from him but the old friend- 
ship and regard which I am sure he will always give 
me.” 

“ Really ? ” said Christina, expressing perfect in- 
credulity by her manner. “ Well, that is fortunate, 
of course. He has n’t done anything so very sur- 
prising, after all, as boys go. They are apt to make 
fools of themselves, when they are left to their own de- 
vices. But I did give this one credit for exceptional 
good sense ; and now to think that he has let him- 
self be chased and actually captured by an ancient 
widow — ah, bah ! ” 

Here Betty made the only malicious remark she 
ever addressed to her sister. “At any rate, I sup- 
pose she was a genuine widow.” 

And then she walked away with her needlework, 
and sat down at a distance, with her back turned upon 
her companion. 

Christina did not count a hasty temper among her 
failings. She w^as always able to control herself 
when she found it politic to do so ; and she could not 
afford to quarrel with her only confidante. So she 
said nothing more on this occasion, but let the 
cloud pass over harmlessly, only showing by a 


234 


AT DAYBREAK. 


change of color that she had noticed her sister’s lit- 
tle fling. 

Axel’s “ mistake,” as his friends at home generally 
called it, served as a topic of conversation for much 
more than the nine days of the old saying. The 
Karlsens talked of it sparingly, out of sympathy with 
their neighbors in the stone cottage, who were finding 
the path to reconciliation a very steep and brambly one. 

The Rev. Mr. Musgrove expressed his wonder vol- 
ubly, with a discreet air of hidden amusement. 

Mr. Goodwillie took the news as a shock, rather 
surprising those who knew how little there was in 
common between him and the Brands. They would 
have been yet more surprised if they could have read 
his honest heart, or heard the inaudible sigh that 
shook it as his eyes fell on Betty’s calm face. He 
divined something behind the placid little mask that 
her nearest friends had not seen. How promptly, if 
he could, would he have recalled that errant Prince, 
dissolved his newly-made ties, and handed him over 
to Betty, if so that smile of hers might be a mask no 
longer, but a genuine glow of content. Unselfish, 
golden-hearted “ old bachelder ! ” 

But the smiling maid was unaware of his thoughts 
and his sympathy — happily, for she was very proud, 
and her pride made her cunning, even to holding her 
mask so firmly that no one should suspect graver 
looks beneath it. Very soon the caution became a 
habit ; she needed no effort to smile as naturally as 
ever, for there was nothing morbid in her dreamy 
temperament. 


THE PRINCE FALLS UNDER A SPELL. 235 


By the time that the lilac-trees under the windows 
had burst into pinkish-purple masses of sweetness, 
and all the company of elms were doing their best to 
obstruct her view of the highroad, life seemed quite 
smooth and rational again to Betty. She walked in 
the beloved shade of the old trees with the light foot 
of her childhood.; the long branches were longer and 
thicker by twelve years’ growth than when she felt 
her first grief over Axel. Late events flitted over her 
mind like the restless shadows on the path. She felt 
herself older for them and more sober, but not unhappy. 
Indeed, she now and then wondered how it was that 
she was so cheerful. “Why, because you are well, 
and working for other people,” she apostrophized 
herself, crossing the fields toward the workmen’s cot- 
tages with her basket. “ And it is so lovely here in 
your dear old village ! and you have Mrs. Brand and 
the Doctor, besides your own people ; and ever so 
many happy years to count over, that nobody can 
take away from you. Why should n’t you be cheer- 
ful, foolish girl } ” 

“ Working for other people ” formed a part of her 
daily routine ; it meant something beside the “ flan- 
nels and soup,” the formula which ruled Mrs. Karlsen’s 
early charities in old Surrey. It meant kind little 
chats with tired housewives ; bits of sewing for the 
children ; garden-flowers and dainty morsels for sick 
ones ; a firm little hand stretched out here and there, 
ready to give what they called a “ lift ” over some 
rough place. Perhaps Lyme was not any better 
stocked with poor people than most towns of its 


236 


AT DAYBREAK, 


size ; but Betty found enough to do where another 
would have found much less. 

So she was reasonably happy ; and, better still, she 
knew it. Her chief thorn — it pricked rather sharply 
sometimes — was, of course, Christina. This young 
lady had fallen back into her reprehensible ways with 
the rector, who hung about the house more than ever, 
and caused unspeakable concern to Betty. She put 
off remonstrance as far as possible, having got into 
a nervous dread of scenes, or indeed of any serious 
intercourse with her sister. 

Coming home late one afternoon from a long, 
tiresome walk, Betty and her empty basket entered 
by a little back veranda opening into the music- 
room. She dropped down on a sofa shaded by the 
window-curtain, for a moment’s rest; and leaning 
back there, with her cheek on her folded hands, she 
fell asleep, and began after a while to dream. It 
seemed that somebody was ill — she thought it was 
herself, and yet she was sitting by and looking on ; 
and Christina passed through the room laughing, and 
cariydng a bunch of flowers in her hand. And all 
the time there was a steady low murmur of voices 
going on somewhere — perhaps a consultation ; and 
Betty, watching in her dream, began to think that 
Betty who was being watched must be very ill indeed. 
By and by she found herself really awake ; but the 
murmuring still went on, and twilight had fallen 
heavily around her. 

“ — never can be effaced,” one voice was saying, 
in accents of dolorous sweetness. “Oh, never! 


THE PRINCE FALLS UNDER A SPELL. 237 

Those things blight one’s life. I am as different horn 
what I used to be — years ago ! If one could only rid 
oneself of these sombre memories — but they cling, 
they cling ! It is painful to refer to them ; I seldom 
do. Only at certain moments they are apt to come 
to the surface — when one is tempted by a sympa- 
thetic presence, by the consciousness of being under- 
stood, and — and ” — 

“Finish your sentence,” said the other voice, 
deeply. 

“ — and valued perhaps — a little,” murmured the 
first voice, almost in a whisper. It was Christina’s. 

“‘Valued’ — You may well say that. Good 
heavens, how colorless words can seem sometimes ! 
Well, that one must get used to. Oh, if those 
gloomy remembrances could be driven away by any 
power of mine, how quickly you would be free from 
them ! You are sure of that, I think ? ” This was 
the Reverend Mr. Musgrove’s voice, and it sounded 
very soft and mysterious. They had probably re- 
turned from a walk together, and stopped to sit on 
the little veranda, whence their conversation stole in, 
close by Betty’s drowsy head. Up to this point she 
had listened sleepily, quite still and astonished ; then 
her awaking became thorough, and she started 
silently to creep away. But a second thought 
pinned her to the sofa. What was this dangerous 
Christina about 1 She must be watched ; it was no 
moment for scruples. 

“ Thanks for the assurance,” said the sweet voice, 
pensively. “Yes, I am sure that life would be quite 


238 


AT DA YBREAK. 


rose-colored for me if it depended on the will of so 
good a friend.” 

“ That word again ! You are determined to have 
it so — Well, name it as you choose ; still, you 
know ” — 

“ It is not a word to be despised,” the first voice 
interrupted, with a faint accent of raillery. “ It 
means a great deal. You ought to be perfectly satis- 
fied with my application of it.” 

“Ought I ? — One is so rarely satisfied when he 
ought to be ! ” 

“ That is very true. My friend is philosophical 
to-night. Does he ever expect to be satisfied ? ” 

“ No,” replied the man’s voice, after a pause. “ I 
am afraid not. He will probably go on wishing, 
hoping, struggling; always thrust back, hemmed in, 
disappointed — What an outlook ! Would you be 
sorry for him? No, you would not. I almost fancy 
you enjoying it. I wonder sometimes if you ever 
did care for any one. Must I believe ” — 

But the listener had heard all she wished to. She 
rose carefully, retreated without a sound to the far- 
thest end of the room, and felt about for a match- 
safe. Finding it, she ^ moved back with an audible 
step and lighted a pair of candles over the fireplace. 
She took one in her hand and carried it toward the 
window, letting its small ray fall on Christina in a 
low piazza-chair, and on Mr. Musgrove standing be- 
fore her against the rail. His face looked pale and 
sometlnng tragic in the candlelight. 

“ Oh,” said Betty, in her usual voice. “ Good 


THE PRINCE FALLS UNDER A SPELL. 239 


evening, Mr. Musgrove. Won’t you come in out of 
the damp ? It is rather damp, you know, Chris- 
tina.” 

Mr. Musgrove thanked her, and said he would not 
come in. He was on his way home when he overtook 
Mrs. Lecomte in the road, and was not intending to 
make a call just then. It was a trifle damp; he 
thought there would be rain. And then he bowed 
and said good-night, and jumped down into the 
dusk. 

Christina gathered herself up and came through 
the long window, clapping its leaves together after 
her. 

“ Have you just come in, Betty ? ” she inquired, 
carelessly. 

“ No,” said her sister, putting back the candle. 
** I came in some time ago.” 

“ And have you been alone in our room ever 
since ? ” Christina kept on, looking curiously in her 
sister’s face. 

“ No,” said Betty, meeting the look gravely, “ I 
have not been in our room at all. I stopped 
here to rest, and fell asleep on the sofa. I have been 
awake for some time now.” 

The older sister made no immediate remark on 
this, but took two or three short turns up and down, 
her lovely face settling into a very mutinous and dis- 
agreeable expression. “ Eavesdropping,” she said at 
last with acid disdain, over her shoulder, “ is hor- 
ridly poor form ! ” 

Betty took no notice of the words. “You remem- 


240 


AT DAYBREAK, 


ber that evening when you first wore Mr. Musgrove’s 
flowers in your belt, Christina, and when you gave 
them back to him ? Do you remember what you 
said when I asked if it was what they call a flirtation ? ” 

“No, really, I haven’t any recollection of it,” ' 
returned her sister, lightly pacing back and forth 
with a rather unsuccessful air of indifference. 

“You said it was a very mild sort. And I think 
it was — compared with this.” 

The poor child had been thinking how she should 
frame her reproof to raise as little of a storm as 
possible. She was afraid — not of her sister, but of 
the excitement which any reproach seemed to rouse 
in her, and lately more than ever. But Christina 
gave her little time to arrange speeches. 

“ Well, I suppose you ’re going to preach to me 
about it, are you ? I don’t care,” she affirmed reck- 
lessly, throwing calmness to the winds and moving 
about like a graceful caged animal. “ If I choose 
to amuse myself with Mr. Musgrove now and then, 

I don’t see why I must be badgered and sermonized ! 

It does n’t hurt him ; men don’t mind those things. 

I must have something to take up my mind, or I shall 
be wild — indeed I shall ! It ’s bad enough being 
obliged to stagnate in this town, like a cloistered 
creature. You don’t seem to have any consideration 
for me ! I think I ’ve been very unfortunate, and 
ought to be allowed what little diversion comes in 
my way. It ’s little enough, I ’m sure.” 

And so she went on, her voice rising childishly all 
the time, and quivering with excitement. 


THE PRINCE FALLS UNDER A SPELL. 24I 


Betty was greatly troubled. She drew back from 
this little explosion, feeling a painful doubt come 
upon her whether her sister’s mind could be in a 
natural state. She had had this doubt before, on 
certain occasions. But it was generally dispelled by 
the reflection that Christina had never, from her 
babyhood, been as other people are. Only it was 
something new for her to lose control of herself, as 
she often seemed to in these days. Decidedly her 
nervous system was weakened. 

This view of the case disarmed Betty effectually. 
She went up to the passionate pacing figure and 
stayed it with the clasp of her arm. “ Never mind 
now, Christina! You’ll think better of it by and 
by. Come upstairs and rest. I wouldn’t have 
mamma see you so nervous.” 

Blit Christina shook off the arm and ran away 
from her without another word, up to her room. 

Betty followed, with a lagging step ; and paused 
on the way to lean her head against the stair-rail, 
and blur its polish with a few very bitter tears. 


242 


AT DAYBREAK. 


CHAPTER XIX. 
hern’s pond. 

A fter this incident, Christina seemed to lapse 
into a state of general dulness and harmless- 
ness, like a reaction. 

She took scarcely any notice of the rector when 
he called. Most of her time indoors was spent in 
brooding over the boxes of French novels which she 
had sent out to her every little while, from the city. 
Betty looked on these with growing doubtfulness ; 
and wondered whether some of her sister’s principles 
might not have been different if she had lived less 
between those red, and blue, and canary covers. 
Wise Betty! For her own part, she had not much 
acquaintance with the contents of the fascinating 
covers ; but the few samples which she had tried and 
given up in disgust caused her to class them all 
together, blue, red, and yellow, under the compre- 
hensive head of “ smutty.” 

Mrs. Lecomte used to laugh at her comments upon 
them, and call her puritanic. It may be surmised 
that a little more of the puritanic element would have 
proved not a bad thing in Mrs. Lecomte’s moral 
structure. 

But now she read her high-colored literature in 


HERN'S POND. 243 

silence, with a certain listlessness, as though it were 
almost getting to be a surfeit. 

One day she spoke, indirectly, of Hector ; it was 
the first time now in several months that she had 
done so. She was dressing for a drive with her 
mother and the Doctor, and stood languidly putting 
some last touches to her toilet, while Betty was tak- 
ing a rare moment of idleness in her little rocker. 

“ I wonder what people would think if they knew,’^ 
she suddenly observed in a thoughtful tone. “ I 
wonder what people would say about me. Do you 
think, if they knew it all, they would be very hard 
upon me ? ’’ 

Betty looked at her, perplexed. It was her near- 
est approach yet to self-accusation. The sister had 
not an answer ready. 

Christina did not seem to expect an answer. “ We 
have kept the secret very well, have n’t we ? ” she 
added, with a tinge of complacency. 

“Very well — fortunately.” 

“ Yes, fortunately. I would like to have you make 
me a promise, Betty.” 

“I will — if I can?” 

“ Yes, you can. Don’t ever — no matter who else 
may know it — don’t ever tell it to Axel Brand ! ” 
She hesitated in saying it, and having said it, she 
took up her gloves and went out of the room with- 
out waiting for the promise. 

“ Why, that is of course ! I shall never tell any 
one,” said Betty after her as she went. “Tell 
Axel ! ” she exclaimed to herself, left alone. “ Poor 


244 


AT DAYBREAK. 


Axel ! Who knows if I shall ever see him again, to 
tell him anything ? Will he ever come home now ? 
But this is not his home any longer.” And then she 
passed a very sad quarter of an hour in thinking 
over the changes that had taken place since his first 
flight into the world. 

After that she put by her meditations and went 
over to the stone cottage, where there was always a 
welcome for her in every corner. Even the statues 
seemed to smile on her as she came in. She felt a 
little thrill of pleasure as often as she passed through 
that dim hall in which she used to play, and the faint 
aroma from the Doctor’s smoking-room crept out and 
mixed with the fragrance of Mrs. Brand’s house- 
flowers. 

But these pleasant pilgrimages never interfered 
with the longer ones which she took upon herself so 
willingly. Her mild face was as much looked for 
in the village as the wrinkled one of Griffin, who 
drove the coach and brought the mails; and the 
sight of her rush-basket was even more welcome, to 
a good many eyes, than the sight of the rusty leather 
sack that rode up daily to Micajah’s — the post- 
master’s — by Griffin’s side. 

“ Miss Betty,” said Mrs. Ricker, who had been 
listening with great delight to her young visit- 
or’s reading from a city daily, “ you know them 
new folks that’s moved into the cottages over by 
Hern’s Pond — them little bird-cages of Mr. Har- 
rod’s putting up ? They say some of the folks is 
pretty mis’able off, too. Put me in mind of ’em. 


HERN'S POND. 


245 


what you read about that charity work down to the 
city. They Ve come over from the next county,. for 
the men to work on Mr. Harrod’s lots. Well, I hear 
that one o’ them cottages holds seven children, and 
the mother of ’em has just run away and left ’em 
all on their father’s hands ! Don’t much wonder at 
her, myself ! But I don’t see how they ’ll make out 
to get along.” 

“ Poor things ! Well, I must make inquiries, and 
learn if there is anything I can do to help them.” 

“ Will you. Miss Betty ? Now that ’s just like you, 
to be sure.” 

“Yes, I will try and walk over there to-morrow. 
Mr. Harrod is going to take his wife to the city on 
the early train ; and I promised Rose that I would 
come to see them off, and spend the morning with 
her. But after dinner there will be plenty of time 
to get over to Hern’s Pond.” 

She was as good as her word. Christina still lay 
asleep as she left the room, hat in hand, for a hur- 
ried cup of coffee before going to join the Harrods. 
She looked back at her sister as she softly closed 
the door, and thought what a childish head it was, 
with its pretty copper-tinted hair tumbling and curl- 
ing all over the pillow. There was an unhappy look 
about its mouth and drawn-up eyebrow's that lingered 
long in Betty’s mind. 

“ I shall be gone till afternoon, mamma,” she said 
as she left the breakfast-room. “ Good by. Chris- 
tina is not aw'ake yet.” 

A day with Rose Harrod w'as as much of a holi- 


246 


AT DA Y BREAK, 


day for Betty as it used to be when they were little 
girls together. Now Rose had developed very much 
and gained a great deal of experience during a 
number of winters in the city, and made a most 
successful hostess. The morning flew away on 
wings while she kept Betty in her own rosebud of 
a room, amusing her with pretty trifles,' and with 
bright sketches of the outside world as it had fallen 
to her share. 

“ We ’re going to have an early dinner,” said she ; 
“ and then, if you are still bent on going over to 
those troublesome creatures at Hern’s Pond, I ’ll 
have my phaeton out and drive you there.” 

But this Betty stoutly declined to allow. “ If you 
drove me over you ’d insist upon waiting to bring me 
back ; and I don’t want my proceedings hampered 
by you and the pony and the phaeton. I ’m ever 
so much obliged, but I ’d better make my rounds 
on foot.” 

It was midway of the afternoon when she started 
on the road to Hern’s Pond. 

There was a couple of miles’ walking before her ; 
but that was a mere trifle for such active young feet, 
and the day was not uncomfortably warm. The road 
took her in a direction different from that of her 
usual walks. It was a pleasant road, running main- 
ly through woodland, so that she went much of 
the time in the shade of the black oaks and hick- 
ories. The song of a wood-thrush rang faintly in 
the deep green arches. She loitered to pull out 
some of the wild clematis that enlaced the roadside 


HERN^S POND. 247 

bushes, and wound it around her arm as she walked 
along. 

Almost before she was aware of it the woodland 
had ceased, the road slanted downward, and great 
clearings appeared, in which she could see the ex- 
cavations and the general upheaval of things caused 
by Mr. Harrod’s workmen. None of these dis- 
turbing forces were in view, however ; it looked 
as if they had all suddenly deserted their posts, 
leaving behind the tip-carts and horses, which 
stood about among the earth-heaps, idle and driver- 
less. 

While Betty wondered at this state of things on 
‘‘ the lots,” a solitary man in overalls crossed her 
field of vision and passed out of sight, running. 
Then the road made a bend, and hid the clearings 
and that end of the pond which had been visible 
among its alders and cornel-bushes. 

The first of the workmen’s cottages was before 
her ; a great many children’s heads were discernible 
within, and it was evident that the door had been 
locked upon them for safety in the absence of their 
elders. Betty summoned the oldest one to the win- 
dow, and learned by questioning that they were the 
identical seven whom Mrs. Ricker had mentioned. 
But it appeared that the runaway mother had only 
gone as far as the next township when she thought 
better of it and returned to her duties ; and that 
she had locked up the troublesome seven while she 
went down the road “ to see a neighbor.” 

Having relieved her humane anxiety, Betty strolled 


248 


AT DAYBREAK. 


on again, meaning to strike across by a path she 
knew of into the highway toward home. 

As the cottages straggled one by one into sight, 
it seemed to her that something unusual must have 
occurred. The dwellings seemed mostly left to 
themselves ; near one of them three or four women 
stood talking in a knot, very close together. At 
a little distance there was a group in blue overalls, 
also huddled together, but rather silent, and casting 
helpless and curious glances toward the women ; 
further down the roadside was another group in over- 
alls ; these were the men who should have been 
at work among the mounds and tip-carts. 

As Betty came along toward them, one of the 
women separated from the knot and went to meet 
her. It was a stout, kind-looking young woman, 
with an expression of singular awe and solemnity 
upon her face. 

“ Miss,” said she, without waiting to be questioned, 
“ miss, there ’s been an accident ! ” 

“ An accident ? ” repeated Betty. “ What is it ? 
Is one of the men hurt? ” 

“No, miss, none of the men. It is a woman. A 
young lady, miss, drowned in the pond. And being 
strangers hereabouts we don’t none of us know who 
it is. When I caught sight of you up the road, miss, 
I says ‘ There ’s a lady, and likely she ’ll know, if it 
won’t frighten her to come and look.’ ” 

“ Oh, poor creature ! Are they sure she is really 
drowned ? Has a doctor been sent for ? ” 

“ Oh yes, miss, we sent for a doctor, but it ’s so far, 


HERN^S POND. 


249 


and he has n’t got here yet. But it ’s no use, miss 

— no use at all. The doctor can’t do any good 
when he comes, only to tell us what to do about her 

— poor thing ! ” 

“ When did it happen ? ” Betty asked. 

“After noon, miss. The men were having their 
dinners. It was my man brought her up from the 
pond.” Here the young woman, who had been look- 
ing intently in Betty’s face as she spoke, hesitated, 
changed color, and stopped short. 

“ Is it — is it in that cottage ? ” asked Betty, point- 
ing toward the cluster of whispering women. 

“ Yes — yes, miss, it is ; but had n’t you — maybe 
you had n’t ought to go in just now ! Don’t you 
think ” — 

Betty walked slowly toward the cottage. The 
young woman followed her with an alarmed face, 
still talking. “You would n’t think it, miss, to look 
at her ; but she — she did it herself ! ” 

“ Did it herself ! ” repeated Betty, mechanically. 

What horrible idea was this ! 

“ She did indeed, miss. Two of the men saw her. 
They were down under the trees taking a rest ; 
and they saw her come into that cove on the further 
side, and get in an old boat that was stranded up 
there, and then she pushed out for the middle of the 
pond with one oar. And she threw herself right 
over the edge, miss, and went down ! The men were 
after her as swift as you can think, and we ’ve all 
done everything that could be done ; but it ’s been 
no use, miss — no use at all ! ” 


250 


AT DAYBREAK. 


The other women were close behind; they all 
stopped in the little yard before the door. One of 
them was a small nervous woman who was crying all 
the time, and working her hands ; the others were 
quieter, grave, and timorous-looking. Betty looked 
at the nervous one, and thought it might be the 
mother of the seven locked-up babies she had talked 
to. Then she crossed the threshold and leaned with 
her hand against the door-post, looking at the 
clematis which still wreathed her arm. Clematis was 
always from that day a flowering horror to her. 

She stood in the doorway of a darkened room, its 
narrow limits lost in the obscurity. The outer light 
followed her in, and fell directly on a small bed, 
whose covering rose white over the outline of a silent 
mystery. She heard the nervous woman behind her 
whispering and crying — “ Don’t let her go in ! she 
ought n’t to be let go in ! ” The others stood watch- 
ing in a hushed, anxious group. 

A white butterfly flitted in past her, circled about 
a moment, and lost itself somewhere in the shadows. 
Betty’s eye followed it dimly, a faint shiver running 
through her. One might have fancied it the psyche 
of that quiet image lying under its white covering. 

“ Don’t come in yet,” said Betty with an effort, 
motioning back the women. “ I am not afraid.” 

It was not true, but she did not know what she 
was saying. The thrumming of her heart seemed to 
stifle her ; a mortal fear had her in Us grasp, even 
while she forced herself to go and stand close by this 
veiled immobility that was so harmless and yet so 


HERN'S POND. 


251 


full of awe. She closed her eyes and made a quick 
prayer — for something indefinite. And yet she felt 
more and more, every instant, that the strange, most 
unlikely thing which she feared was upon her, and 
that no prayer now was of any avail, except for pity. 
She put out her hand and drew back the sheet — 
and then she covered up her head with her arms and 
sank down silently on the floor ; and sight and knowl- 
edge went away from her. 

Yes, it was Christina, lying as she lay asleep in the 
morning ; but with the soft hair clinging darkly 
around her childish head, and every trace of fear, or 
passion, or restlessness passed from the waxen face 
forever ! 


252 


AT DAYBREAK. 


CHAPTER XX. 


AT THE GAP, 


UNT BERTHA KARLSEN, as we remember, 



±\. had one great affection beside that which was 
directed to herself — her affection for her elder niece. 
She was perhaps the one of all the family who suf- 
fered most severely from the shock of Christina’s 
death. They managed to keep her ignorant of its 
sad details, and she shared the general impression, 
outside of Lyme, that it had been an accident. 

She was very ill after it, so ill that Betty’s mother 
felt obliged to shake off her own heaviness of grief, 
and go to watch over poor Aunt Bertha. Betty re- 
mained in charge at home, trying in vain to conquer, 
for her father’s sake, the mortal loneliness and heart- 
sickness which dragged upon her. 

“ But for you and the Doctor, dear Mrs. Brand, I 
believe I should have died, too,” she used to say 
afterwards to that faithful friend, whose ministrations 
were not only daily but almost hourly. They talked 
together a great deal, after their old custom ; but 
Betty could not bring herself to speak much of her 
sister. It was a deep mystery to every one — what 
could have urged that poor, flighty little mind to such 
a desperate resolve ! Betty alone was not to be left 


AT THE GAP. 


253 


long in wonder. Only the week after her sister’s 
funeral, as she opened a box of handkerchiefs in her 
bureau, she found an envelope there, filled with 
Christina’s light, fanciful handwriting, and marked 
with her own name. These were its contents : 

“I was not sleeping when you looked at me. I 
was thinking over this letter, and where I should put 
it so that no one but you should find it. — Yesterday 
I walked out alone as far as the pond, and there was 
a boat on the shore. But I did not think about it 
then. When I was nearly at home again, a carriage 
passed along, and he looked out at me. His face 
was dreadful, and his eyes glared, but he drove 
on. You see he has not kept his word to you, and he 
is still here. I ran till I was inside the house and 
had the door fastened. If you had been there I 
should have told you; but before you came I re- 
membered the boat and the pond, and my mind was 
made up. It is not worth while for me to live. I 
cannot be happy myself, nor make any one else so. 
I am going back to the pond this morning. You 
would say there was no danger, because I was not 
brave enough to take my own life. You did not un- 
derstand me ; nobody ever did. I suppose they will 
say my head was not right. It has sometimes seemed 
so to me, but I believe I was always unlike other 
people. You have been very good, though you can- 
not save me from hwi. I think you were sorry for 
me, and no one else ever thought I needed it. Good- 
b}^ Remember your promise never to tell any one I 

c.” 


254 


AT DAYBREAK. 


Betty read this letter trembling ; cried bitterly 
over it, and burned it at the flame of a candle. 

The rambling lines added conviction to the feeling 
she had often had, that her sister’s mind had been 
disordered — perhaps slightly affected even from her 
girlhood. It seemed improbable that Hector should 
really have remained in the neighborhood, contrary 
to his promise ; though if he had done so, it would 
be not unlike him to have appeared in just such a 
manner as his wife had shrinkingly recorded. But, 
in all likelihood, the “ glaring eyes ” from which she 
fled with such terror were lent by a roused conscience 
and unsteady brain to the face of some harmless 
traveller who may have been driving that day upon 
the Lyme highroad. This solution Betty was in- 
clined to accept, as no one, then or afterwards, re- 
ported the passage of any foreign-looking stranger 
through Lyme village. 

Mrs. Karlsen stayed into autumn with Aunt Ber- 
tha, coming home now and then for a look at house- 
hold affairs. In November she came home “for 
good,” with reassuring accounts of Aunt Bertha’s 
condition. 

“ I am thankful to get you back, mamma,” said 
Betty, following her about the house like a child. 
“ Mrs. Brand has been a perfect guardian angel, but 
she is not very strong this autumn. I am sure the 
Doctor is worried about her, and it troubles rne. 
She will not admit that she does not feel well. But 
you ’ll see that she is looking more frail than usual, 
and I have an idea that her heart is not right.” 


AT THE GAP. 


255 


“We must look after her,” said Mrs. Karlsen, 
speaking cheerfully, as she now always made a point 
of doing. “ I have just left one invalid, and do I 
come home to find another ? That must be mended. 
Aunt Bertha is improving — oh, yes, very fast; but 
you have no idea how much she has been weakened, 
mentally and physically. At first she used to talk 
about Christina, and call for her, till I was nearly 
heartbroken. It was not delirium ; she simply re- 
fused to believe that the child was not here, and 
could not come to her. Now she never speaks of 
her at all. But she asks a great deal about you, and 
made me promise that I would send you to her in the 
spring for a long stay — perhaps to go away with her 
for the summer.” 

“ We ’ll see, mamma. At present I want to stay 
with you. I ’m very glad she did not wish me to 
come to her just yet.” 

It was true that the Doctor was uneasy about his 
wife ; still not a word would he say to that effect, 
and their friends only recognized it by a slight, in- 
definable shade upon his usual joyous manner. 
Axel discovered in some way that his mother was 
taking; prescriptions ; became frightened, and wanted 
to throw up his position and come home at once. 
But Mrs. Brand discouraged this plan, chiefly be- 
cause Axel had just apprized them of new prospects 
for him — involving an official trip to a certain 
distant Court — which would take him out of Eng- 
land for a year or so. She wrote him that she was 
very well, and forbade him to think of returning be- 


256 


AT DAYBREAK. 


fore he was quite ready — when of course he would 
find such a welcome as words were not equal to 
describing. But if he could have seen her face 
while she read his letter with the first eager proposi- 
tion, it is likely that the next steamer would have 
brought him to America, and that a Certain Distant 
Court would never have known his services. 

The Doctor was on good terms with his son at 
present. He was still sore on the subject of the 
daughter-in-law, though not openly displeased ; it 
was out of his power to remain long in hostility to 
any one. But those fine dark eyes of his often 
rested on his “Northern lily,” and followed her 
slight figure to and fro, with a look whose fondness 
lost itself in deepest disappointment. “ Oh, my 
boy,” he sometimes lamented in his secret heart, 
“ my foolish boy, if I only had not let you aw^ay from 
us so soon ! ” 

In spring Betty fulfilled her mother’s promise by 
going to Aunt Bertha. 

She found the latter convalescent, but greatly 
changed. The light curls which Betty remembered 
still shaded her aunt’s thin cheeks ; but her favorite 
laces and jewels were all laid aside, and instead she 
wore a small cap and heavily-craped black gowns. 
There were many wrinkles in her face; the faint 
rose-leaf pink was all gone from it. Aunt Bertha 
looked old and faded, and cared not now to hide it. 

She brightened considerably in Betty’s presence, 
showing her much gentleness and affection. 

“ And you really feel entirely well and strong, my 


AT THE GAP. 


257 


dear ? ” she inquired, wistfully eying the flaxen head, 
and the black garments which made Betty look 
slenderer than ever. “ It will be such a comfort to 
have you with me, after months qf nobody but Wil- 
letts and the doctor and the maids ! They are all 
reliable, but so tedious. And I shall be thankful to 
have you in the summer, when we leave town ! I 
have been making plans for the summer, though of 
course for the very quietest kind of one. We must 
go where I can be very quiet, for I am a nervous old 
creature since my illness. I have been undecided 
between the Gap and the Susquehanna somewhere 
in Wyoming. Either will be pleasant, and not too 
far. Now, what do you think of the Gap, my dear ? 
I am very fond of the Gap ; and if you have never 
been there we certainly must consider it.” 

Aunt Bertha seemed to get back something of her 
old vivacity in talking over her summer arrangements. 
A good deal of it, perhaps, was forced, on Betty’s 
account; each of the two made her best endeavors 
to be cheerful, for the other’s sake. 

“ The Gap ” — by which of course Aunt Bertha 
meant the Delaware Water Gap — was the place 
finally selected for their summering; and there they 
w'ent as soon as the season had opened. There also 
shortly appeared a young man from Lyme, Mr. Jack 
Leavitt, in all the glory of his prospective riches and 
a beautifully matched pair of chestnuts. He had 
never wavered from his ideal since the days when he 
used to lean on Betty’s piano and put her out of 
countenance with his devout gaze. In the first of 


258 


AT DAYBREAK. 


the family affliction he kept respectfully away, and 
tried to content himself by sending hot-house trib- 
utes to the damsel of his dreams. When he heard 
of her at “ the Gap ” with her Aunt Bertha, he felt 
that his time had come, and wrote for rooms with 
hot precipitation. 

Aunt Bertha, who had never heard of him before, 
was quite moved by the attentions which he proceeded 
to offer them. When she took her little walk on the 
hotel-piazza, leaning upon her niece’s arm, — she was 
quite feeble yet, and quickly tired, — Mr. Leavitt was 
promptly at hand, with rugs and folding-chairs. His 
chestnuts, they were notified, stood at their disposal ; 
Aunt Bertha accepted more than one drive behind 
them, with Betty beside her, and Jack Leavitt hold- 
ing the reins. 

The guests at the hotel thought it a very interest- 
ing affair, and talked the little party over with great 
diligence. The invalid lady was distinguished-look- 
ing, and must have been rather handsome once ; her 
pale young companion in black was a very noticeable 
figure, and, as they all said, “ so extremely lovely.” 
The young man was pronounced unbearably exclu- 
sive, being “ so utterly absorbed ” in the society of 
the two ladies. Jack had come to the Gap, of 
course, for them and nobody else ; and was not going 
to waste one minute of his time on any other lady. 

“ Why did I never hear about him before, my 
dear ? ” demanded Aunt Bertha, over a magnificent 
flower-piece that he had ordered for them from the 
nearest glass-houses. “You keep your romances to 


AT THE GAP, 


259 


yourself, I see. But you really might have told me 
something of this one — such an amiable fellow, and 
so very nice-looking! Yes, I do consider him a 
handsome young man, Betty.” 

Jack Leavitt was a handsome young man, though 
with a wild and darkling eye, which perhaps might 
be attributed to the state of mind which he had so 
long endured. Unfortunately, Betty could never see 
him without a repugnant quiver, as she recalled the 
various little tilts between herself a.nd Christina, of 
which he had been the subject. 

Aunt Bertha’s evident fancy for him made it all 
the worse. Neither sorrow nor sickness could 
destroy that lady’s love of the romantic ; and match- 
making was still, as ever, her dear delight. So Mr. 
Jack Leavitt’s innocent manoeuvres to get Betty 
away with him for walks and drives were well sec- 
onded by her gratified aunt. 

“ But she is so shy, or something ! ” exclaimed the 
troubled suitor to himself. “ Hang me if I don’t 
have the horses run away with us some day, so I can 
stop them at the risk of ray life I Perhaps that might 
make her feel a little better acquainted with me. If 
I could n’t stop them it would be awkward, to be 
sure. I don’t know how I ’d do it, exactly ; but any- 
how we should all go to wreck together.” 

Before trying this supreme expedient Mr, Leavitt 
concluded to make one more attempt at a lonely 
promenade with his idol ; and as they all sat upon the 
piazza in the afternoon he boldly suggested “ a walk 
to the Falls.” 


26 o 


AT DAYBJ^EAK. 


Betty hardly liked to leave her aunt, who had had 
a severe headache most of the day. 

“Nonsense, my dear! I shall do very well with 
Willetts for a while,” said that lady. “You ought to 
see Caldeno Falls on a pleasant day; you have only 
seen it once, and the day was dull. Go for your hat, 
there ’s a good child ! ” 

“ But I don’t want to walk to Caldeno Falls, aunty. 
It ’s too far, and I ’m tired.” 

“Well, then,” urged Jack, “why not come to the 
hill out here, and look at the view ? — it ’s worth see- 
ing toward sunset. You ought to walk once every 
day, you know.” 

Betty could make up no reasonable excuse to this ; 
and by and by they walked off to mount the hill, fol- 
lowed by the beaming approval of Willetts and Aunt 
Bertha. 

Jack was beaming also, but apprehensive. His 
speech failed him on the way up, though it was not a 
very steep ascent ; and as his companion had nothing 
particular to say, it was an unsocial climb. Only when 
they stood at the top and looked toward the beautiful 
Shawnee hills, and the Delaware spreading smoothly 
far below, Betty spoke out unconsciously to herself 
in admiration. 

“Yes,” said Jack, drawing nearer, “A«’/ it fine? 
Did n’t I tell you it was worth looking at ? ” 

Poor Jack! before he made his descent the out- 
lines of the Shawnee hills had lost their beauty, and 
the sunset clouds their charm. The Water Gap was 
to be thereafter but a rift which had swallowed up 


AT THE GAP. 


26 r 

his hopes; its memory haunted by a cruel shade 
whose yellow head must always shake an implacable 
refusal. 

Half an hour later Betty came walking back to the 
hotel, alone. 

“ My dear I exclaimed her aunt, reproachfully. 

“Well, aunty, then why did you make me go to 
w'alk when I did n’t want to ? I feel better now, 
though. There ’s just one thing I ’m rather sorry for 
— you won’t probably have the chestnuts to drive 
after any more ! ” 

Aunt Bertha looked as if she would like to read 
her niece a little sermon on “ lost opportunities ; ” 
but she only sighed and closed her lips. Perhaps 
she had had her secret misgivings about a sometime 
match of her own making. 

“ Let ’s go away from here, aunty,” was Betty's 
next remark. 

“ Go away ? What for ? And where should you 
like us to go, pray ? ” 

“Why, we could make a change easily enough. 
There ’s a house — a very good house, they say — at 
Stroudsburg.” 

“ A house,” repeated her aunt, “ at Stroudsburg ! 
Yes, my dear, I have no doubt there is ; and proba- 
bly there are good barns at Stroudsburg, and good 
stables. I don’t know what it can matter to us, in 
any case. Propose going back to the city, my dear, 
or any other inconceivable arrangement ; but don’t 
allude seriously to a house at Stroudsburg ! Of 
course Mr. Leavitt will not remain here after this, we 
understand.” 


262 


AT DA YBREAK, 


“Oh, I know that,” said the young lady, promptly. 
“ But I am sick of the place now, aunty, and it ’s all 
owing to him. I shall never take another walk here 
without seeing his great eyes staring at me around 
every turn of the road ! ” 

Nevertheless they did not leave the Gap until the 
date originally fixed. Betty realized that her aunt’s 
delicate requirements could not be so well met at the 
smaller houses in Stroudsburg, or any other neigh- 
boring place, as at their present quarters ; and after 
Jack Leavitt was gone — he went next morning — 
she did not mind it so much. It was a welcome day 
to her, however, when Willetts preceded them to the 
city to have the house in order for their coming ; and 
a more welcome one when the Minisink with all its 
beauties dropjped from sight behind their flying rail- 
way train. 

“ Aunt Bertha, I am so grateful for your kindness ; 
and indeed I should be glad to stay on a little longer 
with you but for the people at home. You know how 
eager poor mamma has been for the summer to be 
over.” 

So Betty made no delay in her departure for Lyme. 
“ Oh, sweet old place ! ” she said, looking out upon 
it as the old stage-coach took her and her mother 
through its quiet lanes toward their home. “ How I 
do love you ! Mamma, I was not made to be a travel- 
ler. Old Lyme is such a dear, picturesque, stupid 
village ! Let us come home, mamma, and be stupid 
together.” 

It was very soon after her arrival that she heard a 


AT THE GAP. 


263 


bit of news which was still serving its time with all 
the gossips in the county, and considerably beyond. 
It concerned the Reverend Roderic Musgrove, and 
the fashion of it was this : 

Two individuals had made their appearance in 
Lyme village ; a very genial pair, and very mysterious. 
It was found — afterwards — that they carried a requi- 
sition for the person of somebody in the village — to 
wit, a young clergyman of the Church of England, 
James Crafts by name, in behalf of his wife, Mari- 
ana Crafts, and of certain other “ parties ’’ desiring 
the gentleman’s address for reasons of pecuniary im- 
portance to themselves. But lo, when they almost 
had their hand, as it were, upon the gentleman they 
sought — he was elsewhere 1 He had taken his dog, 
his violin, his fishing-tackle and his liberal doctrines, 
and quietly departed. Or, in the simple language of 
the sheriff — “ skipped.” 

And then it went forth among the villagers that 
St. Agatha’s had lost her rector, and that James 
Crafts and the Reverend Roderic Musgrove were one 
and the same man ! 


264 


AT DAYBREAK, 


CHAPTER XXI. 

A LITTLE ADVENTURE. 

ND what does Mr. Goodwillie say to it, mam- 



l\. ma ? ” was among Betty’s first questions, as 
she took in the full enormity of the Crafts-Musgrove 


affair. 


“Mr. Goodwillie, my dear, takes it as much to 
heart as if that wretched man had always been his 
friend. He grieves over it bitterly ; and yet you 
know how cool and patronizing Mr. Musgrove used 
to be with him. He has the charity of a saint, I 
certainly believe.” 

“ One begins to think,” said her daughter, laugh- 
ing, “ that Mrs. Ricker’s opinion of him is none too 
high, and that we really have a ‘sperit of light’ 
walking among us in Mr. Goodwillie’s old black 
coat ! ” 

The Crafts scandal was indeed a terrible shock to 
the good Baptist pastor. It mattered nothing to him 
whether the actor in it were friend or foe. Ritualist 
or Baptist ; he had worn the cloth, and his misdeeds 
were a blot upon the common scutcheon of the 
church. 

“ ‘ That the ministry he not bla7ned^ ’ ” was Mr. Good- 
willie’s great solicitude. Even the small innovations, 


A LITTLE ADVENTURE. 26^ 

the haiTnless-seeming amusements, which Mr. Crafts- 
Musgrove had carried along into his clerical life, had 
seemed ill-advised to his brother minister, as taking 
away, in some degree, from the dignity and sanctity 
of the calling. How unspeakably awful, then, in his 
eyes, was the fall of this “ fallen angel ” from St. 
Agatha’s pulpit ! 

“ ‘ Giving no offence in <z;/vthing, that the ministry 
be not blamed ! ’ ” repeated Mr. Goodwillie to him- 
self, warningly. 

He had made himself a little axiom, too : “ On the 
blameless man blame never rests ” — and these two 
sayings he had mentally framed and hung up for his 
own contemplation. It will be seen that this coun- 
try clergyman’s piety was strict and uncompromising; 
and there are not very many in our day who would 
quite coincide with all his views. 

But I believe that no minister of Mr. Goodwillie’s 
type was ever found unfaithful to his charge. 

The Reverend Roderic, while observing all the 
forms of politeness, had no doubt kept a very lofty 
attitude toward the other clergyman. He considered 
him narrow, mediocre, unpolished — all of which, in 
the Musgrovian sense, the other truly was. Yet 
there were heights and depths in that narrow char- 
acter which were beyond James Crafts’ perception, 

The younger man, who was rather inclined to 
parade himself as a “muscular Christian,” and 
admired his own physical culture very much indeed, 
hardly concealed his sense of superiority over a man 
who had never been to Oxford, and knew nothing, as 


'266 


AT DAYBREAK. 


you might say, of vaulting, or sparring, or fencing. 
But for the untimely arrival of those two gentlemen 
from the city, the “ muscular Christian ” would have 
heard a little story which made the second sensation 
in Lyme that winter, and showed that Mr. Good- 
willie was at least very far from being a flabby 
Christian ! 

Rose Harrod was going to the city for the opening 
of the new year. 

It was morning — a sharp winter morning, when 
she entered the train alone and chose her seat. 
There was but a handful of passengers : a half- 
grown boy or two, an old woman with carpet-bags, 
some children, and two or three schoolgirls. And, 
as Rose settled in her corner and pulled her pretty 
white furs up around her ears, Mr. Goodwillie’s 
tall figure passed with a bow, took a seat beyond, 
across the aisle, and unfolded a newspaper. He 
was on his way to supply a pulpit just outside of the 
city. 

Rose knew Mr. Goodwillie, of course, as every- 
body knew everybody else in Lyme ; but the acquaint- 
ance was slight, and a pretty High Church girl 
would not be apt to take much interest in an old- 
fashioned “ Freewiller.” She let her eye rest on 
him, twinkling and half indifferent ; was a little 
touched by the inadequacy of his overcoat, and 
amused at the red woolen wristlets that boldly sup- 
ported his newspaper. Then she snuggled her chin 
deeper into the furry warmth of her white collar, 
shut her eyes, and forgot all about him. 


A LITTLE ADVENTURE. 


267 


Half-way to their destination, the train was 
boarded by three men, palpably of the lower order. 
One of them was a large man, of a “ flash” or sport- 
ing appearance ; the other two looked like working- 
men. The rush of cold air which they brought into 
the car was unpleasantly flavored with bad tobacco, 
tavern cookery, and a great deal too much of the 
cheap fluid invigorators which are sometimes found 
in taverns. This interesting party were in the frame 
of mind which prompts to the assertion of indepen- 
dence ; and they talked and laughed very freely as 
they jostled through the aisle. Having turned over 
a seat with a bang, to Rose’s horror they took pos- 
session of the places directly in front of her. 

Now if there was anything fatal to this young 
lady’s firmness, it was an intoxicated man ; and three 
of them in such near neighborhood was more than 
she could endure. Mr. Goodwillie, looking around 
from his paper, saw a pair of brown eyes, rounded 
with dismay, glance toward him anxiously under 
Miss Harrod’s hat-brim. She waited a moment, and 
then, hoping they would not notice her, slipped qui- 
etly into the seat behind, which was the last on that 
side. But the large man, unhappily, was in just the 
mood to notice everything that was done, and take 
it as a particular offence to himself. He looked over 
his shoulder suspiciously ; cast a wink at his com- 
panions, and rising with great ostentation stretched 
himself in the place just vacated by Rose. Then, 
to remove all doubt of his perfect equality with 
everybody present, he produced a smouldering pipe 


268 


AT DAYBREAK. 


and calmly blew a whiff of smoke into the close air 
of the car. 

Rose had never expected to feel such an interest 
in Mr. Goodwillie as she did at this moment. He 
had folded his newspaper across the back of the 
seat, and was sitting with his face toward the three 
independents. As the first puff of smoke arose, Mr. 
Goodwillie did the same. Rose thought that he 
looked uncommonly tall, and that she had never seen 
his eyes so black. 

“ My friend,” said he mildly, moving across the 
aisle, “ this, is not a smoking-car, and there are ladies 
here.” 

“ Oh,” returned the pipe’s owner somewhat thickly, 
with a facetious wave of the hand, “ nev’ mind ! 
Thaddont make any diffrence. Jussoon smoke here 
as anywhere ; no objection to ladies ! Tain’t your 
fault if there ’s no smoker on this train, you know. 
Don’t ’pologize,” and another puff whirled toward 
Rose’s frightened face. 

“ I think, sir, you have n’t understood me,” said 
the minister, softly ; and as he spoke he seemed to 
expand in a singular manner. “ Either that pipe or 
you, sir, will go out within two minutes.” 

The smoker rolled up his eyes and surveyed Mr. 
Goodwillie with glassy scepticism. “ You be hanged 1” 
said he, and lowered them contemptuously. 

“ Don’t you be crowed over. Bob ! ” put in one of 
the other roughs. “ He ’s no good. You ’re bet- 
ter ’n he is. Don’t you see he ’s nothin’ but a 
preacher 'i ” 


A LITTLE ADVENTURE. 


269 


“You’re right, my man, I preach,” returned Mr. 
Goodwillie ; “ and it may be well for you to note 
that I ’m not quite out of practice, either.” And in 
the flash of a red wrister the pipe was twitched from 
“ Bob’s ” astonished mouth, and went flying through 
a window which Mr. Goodwillie opened for the pur- 
pose. 

It was tinder to flint. The sporting-man was on 
his feet in an instant, pouring out a flood of sputter- 
ing wrath; he was behind Mr. Goodwillie as the 
window closed, striking at him wildly and swearing 
most fluently. But before he knew it, the unlucky 
Bob was pounced upon by the clergyman, shaken, 
twisted, held up by the neck, and finally shot into 
the end of the car with such force that the glass flew 
out. 

The other passengers M'ere huddled into corners, 
some screaming and some petrified into silence. 
Rose stood up straight, as white as her furs, clutch- 
ing the back of a seat with her little gloves. The 
affair was not settled yet. “ Bob’s ” comrades, see- 
ing their friend’s treatment, had sprung up to attack 
the preacher, adding their share to the profanity 
already floating about. Bob now returned to the 
charge, raging worse than ever, and bringing a great 
stick which he had found in the passage. 

What happened then happened so fast that nobody 
in the car could have recounted it. The children 
howled at the top of their voices. Rose saw a 
struggling group of men, with one tall figure whose 
head was bleeding freely from the blows of the 


270 


AT DAYBREAK. 


sporting-man’s stick. She sprang upon a seat, caught 
the bell-cord and dragged at it frantically. 

Two of the roughs were seen to topple over, one 
after the other. “ Great Powers ! ” panted the third, 
reeling back out of the way, “ what sort of a preacher 
is this } ” 

The conductor, a small, birdlike man, burst open 
the door, followed by two or three train-hands. 
“ Gentlemen ! gentlemen ! ” he called out, appeal- 
ingly, waving his arms. 

The train slackened, grated and stopped. 

As the last of the independents made a bolt for the 
outer air, Mr. Goodwillie, putting his hand to his 
head, quietly sat down and fainted away. 


PERILOUS SPORTING GROUND. 2/1 


CHAPTER XXII. , • 

PERILOUS SPORTING GROUND. 

N ot one, perhaps, of the people who had known 
the Reverend Musgrove during his Lyme 
rectorate thought of looking at his “ affair ” at all in 
a tragic light. Those outside the Church were dis- 
posed to chuckle and joke over his undignified exit ; 
the religious townsmen frowned grimly and unap- 
peasably on the whole subject. Yet there was some- 
thing pitiable — if they had but thought of it — in 
that picture of a hunted rogue, stealing away by 
night from the menace of prison-gates, past houses 
where he had been so often a welcome guest, past 
the chapel whose altar he had dishonored, beyond 
the limits of the village where his show of manhood 
and purity had so prospered that he had almost for- 
gotten any doubtful past — now all lost to him, for- 
ever and ever ! He stopped once on a hill-road in 
his solitary flight, and looked back toward the dark 
indistinguishable town with its few chance lights. 

They might have pitied him if they had seen him 
then. Yet he had shaped his own fortunes. 

When day broke he was far away. His pursuers 
were not acquainted with his resources ; moreover 
they had counted too much on the security which 


272 


AT DAYBREAK. 


his long and respectable stay in Lyme should have 
given him. A “professional” could not have taken 
alarm more promptly, nor covered his tracks more 
adroitly. He had pride enough still to feel a cer- 
tain Gontempt of himself for being able to do it so 
well. 

“ I have all the qualifications for a first-class 
criminal,” said he to himself, as he issued at the 
next night-fall from a costumer’s shop in the first 
city he had reached. He had in his pocket a little 
package containing a reddish moustache, a bottle 
of dye warranted to redden the darkest hair in 
a week, and some colored pencils for getting up 
the face — “for private theatricals.” He had also 
been in a “ tonsorial saloon” and had his hair 
cropped as short as possible. When he left the 
train again by daylight in New- York, his father the 
Dean — had that good man still existed — would not 
have recognised him. Even the style of his collar 
and tie was altered. He presented a very American 
appearance ; and carried in straps a heavy shawl 
and extra coats, such as would be needed by a travel- 
ler about to cross the ocean. For that was what he 
had decided on as his safest course. He was wanted 
in England ; England therefore was the last place 
where they would expect him to go. So England was 
his immediate destination, and he meant to get there 
as fast as possible. He knew there was an outward- 
bound steamer about to start ; till that time, cer- 
tainly, he was safe, for he had left a false scent 
behind him, and they were already making off at 


PERILOUS SPORTING GROUND. 273 


full speed in the opposite direction. Though for 
that matter he might safely have stayed or gone 
where he would in his present disguise. His dog 
and fishing-tackle had been disposed of at different 
points in his hasty transit ; he was no longer Rod- 
eric Musgrove — though for convenience’s sake we 
may still call him so. 

But in spite of his neat escape from the terrors of 
the law, a more unhappy man rarely paces the deck of 
an ocean steamer. What a chance for self-commun- 
ion had he in those long watches of the night, when 
the stars glimmered on him and the waters rushed 
away fleetly behind him ! In the daytime, too, 
he kept by himself: it was more prudent; yet he 
had reached that state of recklessness which finds 
its only pleasure in risks. He made no attempt to 
hide away from the other passengers, but he feigned 
an affection of the throat, which required the wear- 
ing of his travelling-shawl closely muffled over his 
chin, and prevented conversation. Behind this 
shield he used to scan his fellow-voyagers from his 
solitary post on deck. There was one young girl 
who had hair like Christina’s. He watched it hag- 
gardly when the sea-wind twitched it from under 
her veil and sent its tawny rings flying over her 
sunburned cheeks. So much as it was in his power 
to care for any one beside himself he had cared for 
Christina. Her death, and the manner of it, had 
been a fearful shock to him. People generally 
had observed this, and sympathized with him. The 
claim of the faded Mariana in England — which 


274 


AT DAYBREAK. 


of course they knew nothing of then — “ taking in 
sewing ” for her living, with not so much probably as 
a moated grange to mortgage, weighed with feather- 
lightness on the conscience of Mr. Crafts-Musgrove. 
He might have forgotten all about such a person 
in time, but for that requisition. 

Christina’s death had even affected his health, 
people said. The fact was, that it had so wrought 
upon him, and caused him such dreams and such 
troubled nights, that he took to using a drug for sleep- 
lessness ; and after a while used it by day, and quite 
frequently, for its deadening effect upon the nerves. 
He had a flask of it in his pocket now, as he walked 
the deck pondering his possible future. 

How he was to support himself in that future was 
not yet clear to him. “ I can live by my wits, at 
any rate,” he meditated. “They ought to carry me 
through.” 

But in spite of this comforting prospect, he suffered 
bitterly from his enforced solitude. He had a dis- 
tinctly social nature ; it was a martyrdom to be in 
sight of gay intercourse, such as this around him, 
and yet cut off from sharing it. And it was bitterest 
of all to acknowledge — as he now did in his lonely 
reflections — that there was no man on sea or shore 
that he could call his friend. There was Axel Brand, 
to be sure, who had not yet heard of his disgrace. 
He always liked Axel, and even had a certain 
admiration for him as a bright, graceful, many-sided 
fellow whose gifts stood out in effective relief from 
the rustic background of Lyme. He thought that 


PERILOUS SPORTING GROUND. 2/5 

Axel liked him, too ; there were so many points on 
which they were in sympathy, and Axel was so ami- 
able and put such a fair valuation on the refinements 
of others. , How the fugitive longed for one of those 
good-humored hand-shakes ; for the merry tilts of 
wit in which they used to indulge, and the delightful 
lazy hours in his study with Jack and the Stradiva- 
rius. The thought of Axel gave rise to many other 
thoughts. If he could see him before the Lyme 
people had time to give their version of the story, 
Musgrove could enlist his sympathy — Brand was 
always so kind-hearted ! — and pave the way to 
something — to something — there again his calcu- 
lations wandered. He would be frank with Axel ; 
that was the best way to take him ; and Axel was 
a citizen of the world, and would be more tolerant 
than those old fogies in Lyme. And then he wished 
so passionately for another hour of equality and 
fellowship with somebody who filled his idea of 
a gentleman ; who understood the subtleties of so- 
cial culture; and whose clothing — London made — 
breathed the fine aroma of the elect. There were 
no indications that the Reverend Roderic Musgrove 
would ever descend to fraternize with common 
sharpers. 

When the steamer touched dock in Liverpool his 
campaign was planned. Axel Brand had become the 
end and object of his journey. He had his address 
— city, street, and number — in his pocketbook, and 
found his way to it without delay. Axel was not 
there — gone for a month to Copenhagen, his wife’s 


2/6 


AT DAYBREAK. 


native city. They would be staying with Max Lind- 
hohn, senior, in such-and-such a “ Gade.” 

On went Musgrove, pocketing the new address ; 
hurrying through the rough trip to Copenhagen with 
as few breaks as possible. At the Lindhohns’ house he 
interviewed a fair, thin and gaily-robed lady who intro- 
duced herself as Mrs. Brand, and regretted so much 

— with a slight accent marring her neat English — 
that her husband was at present making a little tour 
in the Jutland mountains; to the Himmelbjerg, the 
beautiful peak, where he used to go as a student. 
He so enjoyed renewing the early associations ! 

Her father and brother appeared ; and among 
them they detained Musgrove overnight, and made 
much of him till he began once more to feel himself 
a social ornament. 

With the morning he pushed on eagerly toward the 
Himmelbjerg, his desire to find Axel only intensified 
by its difficulty of attainment. At a public-house in 
the little paper-manufacturing town which is head- 
quarters for the lake visitors, his chase finally drew 
toward its close. 

Yes, the Herr Brand was staying there for a short 
time. He was out for the day, however ; had gone 
after plover on the moor, all alone — singular fancy! 

— but he had often been here before, and knew the 
ground well. Risky business, though, this hopping 
about in the mose with firearms I If one should get 
shot by mistake, or miss footing and slip into the 
bog, with nobody near to help — the landlord ex- 
pressively shrugged. Would the respected gentle- 


PERILOUS SPORTING GROUND, 277 


man wait here till night ? or would he like to take a 
boat and go down stream on his friend’s track ? The 
fishing was good, and he might come upon the Herr 
Brand somewhere. 

“ He is very hard to come at,” said the respected 
gentleman, with a tired smile. “ I have been hunt- 
ing him all the way from London ; and I am just over 
from America.” 

The landlord gazed at him in deep and innocent 
admiration. 

“ My journey has rather fagged me ; still, you can 
give me something to remedy that ; and I shall be 
very glad afterward to take a boat and explore some 
of your beautiful scenery.” 

This suggestion was acted upon promptly, but 
Musgrove’s appetite was faint, after all. His nerves 
were asserting themselves under the long strain of 
fatigue ; he took a dose of his inseparable drug be- 
fore going out to the river. The landlord accompa- 
nied him, and gave him many warnings about “ get- 
ting bogged,” or attempting to cross a “ mose’^ if he 
should land anywhere. Musgrove’s heavy spirits 
began to rise as he pushed olf alone. It was a pleas- 
ant sensation to be going about in this strange coun- 
try where he was so wholly unknown and safe ; where 
any slight physical risks only added to the stimulus 
of the bracing air. What a fine country this would 
be to live in ! Why not ? Perhaps Axel could help 
him to something here ; perhaps he might make him- 
self a foothold once more, and get back into those 
walks in life where a clever fellow ought to be. He 


278 


AT DAYBREAK, 


pulled hopefully at his oars — a good Oxford stroke. 
From lakelet to lakelet, lying across the main stream ; 
in guidebook phrase, “ like a string of jewels on a 
silver thread.” 

There leaped a fish — what a fish! Musgrove 
wished he had brought along fishing-tackle, as the 
landlord advised. Something plunged from the bank ; 
possibly an otter. How excited his little terrier Jack 
would have been at the splash ! He had lamented 
bitterly the need of separating from Jack. A man 
may be a scapegrace, and yet be very kindly affec- 
tioned to his dog. 

A mountain loomed up on his left, with a score of 
little mountains around. This must be the Himmel- 
bjerg — “ heaven-mountain ” — it was nearer the heav- 
ens than anything he had yet seen ; a stately height, 
wrapped in a beautiful misty mantle of gold and 
amethyst — heather and broom. It was as though 
light were falling on it through the colors of stained 
glass ; yellow and violet — like, for instance, the win- 
dows in St. Agatha’s chapel. 

He pulled on steadily, frightening the shy water- 
fowl with the clip of his oars. By and by a boat ap- 
peared, moored at a little landing-place. He rowed 
up to it on the chance of its being Axel’s boat ; fas- 
tened his own beside it, and scrambled ashore through 
the sweet heather. The landlord had told him of a 
roadside inn on one of these lakelets ; after a time 
he found such a place, and its proprietor dreaming 
pleasantly in the doorway. Musgrove managed to 
establish an understanding with this native, whose 
patois somewhat resembled English. 


PERILOUS SPORTING GROUND. 279 


Yes, a gentleman had stopped there an hour ago. 
Tall gentleman, with gun ; going to shoot in the niose. 
Bad place, the mose.^ for strangers. But many birds. 
It lies there, quite near — and the native pointed, 
obligingly. 

Musgrove started on again patiently toward the 
moor. It was, as the native said, quite near. Its 
black expanse very soon spread before him, dotted 
with little turf-mounds. The golden spurs of the 
bog-lily — iris — pricked up here and there through 
the dark ooze. Musgrove stood wonderingly ; it was 
his first sight of a ground like this. 

Ah, there was his man ! Almost in speaking-dis- 
tance ; a brown figure of a sportsman, in short coat 
and long gaiters ; crouching on one of the turf- 
hillocks, with his gun brought to his shoulder. It 
was surely Axel, though his face was out of sight. 
Birds or no birds, Musgrove was too eager to wait 
till that gun was discharged. He gave a loud 
quick whistle, and began to jump from mound to 
mound into the mose. The sportsman dropped his 
gun and stood up with a gesture of annoyance. 

“ Brand ! Brand ! how are you ^ ” shouted the 
ex-rector, forgetting his changed aspect for the mo- 
ment. 

Axel surveyed him sharply, holding his gun, as if 
he were a new kind of game. Then he shouted 
back, emphatically, “ Hold on there, whoever you 
are ! This is bad footing. You ’ll be swamped next ! 
Stay where you are till I come to you ! ” 

“ Don’t you know me, old fellow ? Don’t you know 


28 o 


AT DAYBREAK. 


Roderic Musgrove ? ” called the ex-rector, obediently 
halting. 

Axel reached him with a series of careful jumps, 
and stared at him without touching his extended 
hand. “ My good sir,” said he, suspiciously, after a 
pause, “ you may be Roderic Musgrove, and I won’t 
contradict you ; but you ’re no Roderic Musgrove of 
^ my acquaintance, that ’s positive ! What ’s the next 
move, now ? ” 

“ Why, Brand, my dear boy ! Come here and look 
me right in the eye,” urged Musgrove, taking olf his 
cap and smiling steadfastly in Axel’s face. “ You ’re 
armed, you know, and I ’m not,” he added, laughing 
rather awkwardly ; “ so you can pick me off like a 
plover if I don’t stand the test. Is n’t this Mus- 
grove’s .eye, now ? Are n’t these his shoulders ? I 
would jump a fence for you, if there was anything of 
the sort about ; but I ’ve shown you a little of my 
spring already in getting on this confounded thing 
they call a ‘ mose ! ’ ” 

“ Well, upon my word,” said Axel slowly, still 
staring as he reached out his hand, “ that does sound 
like Musgrove ! And that looks like his eye — and 
you ’re certainly built like him. But — where the 
dickens did you get a red moustache ? and — and — 
why, by Jupiter, your hair is red, too ! ” 

“Well, never mind that now,” said Musgrove, 
guiltily, tugging his cap again over the auburn crop. 
“ A moustache does change the face immensely. 
Yoit look odd enough, with that beard. I don’t feel 
over-flattered at my reception, you know, Brand.” 


PERILOUS SPORTING GROUND, 28 1 


“ Why, deuce take it, what ’s to be expected when 
you come popping up in a Jutland bog, with a red 
moustache on you ? I can’t get over that, anyhow. 
You ’re the Great Unexpected, with a vengeance ! 
And you ’re looking rather ill, too. How did you get 
here, Musgrove ? ” 

“ Oh, I ’m not staying in Lyme at present. I — 
I ’ve left America.” 

“ I see you have. If you had only left it a trifle 
later I should n’t have missed that last shot. Seri- 
ously, though, have you given up Lyme for good ? ” 

“ Lyme has given me up,” said Musgrove, with an 
air of discomfited melancholy. “ I suppose St. 
Agatha’s has got somebody in my place by this 
time.” 

“You don’t mean it ! Musgrove, I implore you to 
explain that moustache, and that hair ! You ’ve been 
doing something to it. And you ’re so queerly gotten 
up, too. If you ’ll excuse a marine term, the ‘ cut of 
your jib ’ is so awfully unclerical that it ’s no wonder 
I did n’t recognize you. You don’t look exactly like 
a bagman, you know; but, by Jove, you dond look 
like a rector ! ” 

“ No, I never expect to look like one again,” said 
Musgrove, uneasily stubbing his boot against the knob 
of black turf. “ To cut it short, Brand — I ’ve got 
myself into trouble.” 

“ Into trouble, eh ? ” echoed Axel, fixing a curious 
eye on him, and leaning with hands clasped around 
his gun. “ What kind of trouble, now ? ‘ Incompat- 

ibility of tenets,’ as old Harrod used to say "t ” 


282 


AT DAYBREAK. 


“ Oh no — nothing of that kind,” said Musgrove, 
taking off his cap again and twirling it about like a 
schoolboy under embarrassment. “It began farther 
back than Lyme. Well, you shall have the whole 
story. Axel. That ’s what I came here for. You are 
the only man under the heavens whom I would ap- 
proach in this way ; and you will hardly believe how 
much I have counted on it ever since I left America. 
To begin with — before I ever went there I had some 
rather bitter opposition in my parish, as perhaps you 
have heard.” 

“ Hm ! ” said Axel, non-committally. 

“Yes, we did n’t get on at all. I might have stuck 
it out, but I began to lose my hold in consequence of 
ill-luck.” 

“Ah,” observed Axel. “Of the nature of” 

“ Financial complications,” said Musgrove. “ Pre- 
cisely. Yes, I ran in debt. Well, a man ’s got to 
live, if he is a clergyman. And I ’ll tell you, now, I 
do think a clever man has a better right to live than 
some others ! What do you say ? ” 

“ Some men are too clever to live,” suggested 
Axel. 

“ Right you are, dear boy. But I ’m not that kind. 
Just clever enough ; — and I ’m nothing if not hum- 
ble. Well, as I said, I had ill-luck ; and there was a 
little misunderstanding about settlements — it is n’t 
necessary to go into details ” 

“Not at all,” said Axel. 

“ — In consequence of which I was obliged to 
sever my connection with the parish. I would have 


PERILOUS SPORTING GROUND. 283 


done it more leisurely, and more harmoniously all 
round, if they had acted differently ; but they did n’t, 
and my wife ” — 

“ WhatV' jerked out Axel. 

“Yes, she’s another part of the trouble. I never 
was a greater fool than when I made that connec- 
tion. She actually sided with my detractors in the 
parish ! Why, sir, it ’s my belief that the very pro- 
ceedings which damaged my reputation and drove 
me from my refuge in Lyme were started at the insti- 
gation of Mrs. Crafts — my name was then Crafts, by 
the way.” 

“ The deuce it was ! ” 

“ I found it prudent, in starting afresh, to take 
another name. I hoped and expected to keep it 
clear from detraction — but I have failed, owing to 
the persistency of my enemies. You can bear wit^ 
ness. Brand, that my life in Lyme was above re- 
proach.” 

“Why, you — you scoundrel!” burst out Axel, 
thumping down his gun-stock into the soft soil. “ Do 
you think I don’t know how you dangled around that 
poor Christina ? Don’t I know that all the village 
thought 3^011 were paying court to her ? What am I 
to call that, you confounded hypocrite } ” 

“ Take care. Brand, you are in a passion,” said 
Musgrove, growing white as the other grew red. 
“ No harm was done there. She did not care for 
me — but I loved her, and she is dead.” 

“ Let us speak no more of her,” said Axel, in a 
quieter tone. “ She is beyond your reach, for good 


AT DAYBREAK. 


284 

or ill. — I don’t see that you justify yourself. What 
of the poor creature you ran away from in England ? ” 

“ She can take care of herself,” said Musgrove, 
doggedly. “ She has friends enough ! You put 
things • in a singularly offensive manner, Brand. I 
hoped to find an adviser in you ; I may say I antici- 
“'pated it, remembering the friendship we formed in 
your native village, and my old belief in your kind- 
ness of heart. Perhaps I have been counting too 
much upon you.” 

“ I am afraid you have. What did you expect me 
to do for you, Mr. Crafts ? ” said Axel in a satirical 
voice. 

“ I expected you to give me a kind word, if noth- 
ing more. I did not expect you to thrust me off 
because I have been unfortunate and unwise. I 
•wanted another chance for my reputation — a chance 
to work for it, in some strange country — perhaps 
here — where there would be no recognition to drag 
me down again. I might retrieve myself, in my own 
eyes at least. You could help me to it, if you would. 
I should never have come to you with my story if I 
had not trusted in that.” 

“ I begin to understand the red moustache,” said 
Axel, running him over with a sarcastic eye. “ Also 
the commercial appearance. You thought me very 
warmly disposed toward you in our former acquaint- 
ance, it would seem ? ” 

“Your mother,” returned Musgrove, impressively, 
“ always honored me with her kind friendship, as you 
know ” — 


PERILOUS SPORTING GROUND. 285 

“ Don’t take her name upon your lips ! ” said 
Axel, at white heat. “ Nor that of any other who is 
dear to me, or I’ll knock you into the mose ! You 
‘ counted on my friendship,’ did you ? You took me 
for a soft easy fellow, with no particular morals, and 
no standard of what a man in your calling ought to 
be ! You thought your cleverness was going to stand 
you in stead of religion, did you ? No, Musgrove, 
or Crafts, or whoever else you maybe, — there is 
but one standard, and that you never so much as 
came in sight of ! You never deceived me. Clever- 
ness does n’t outweigh uprightness, with me. I ’m a 
good-for-nothing fellow enough. Heaven knows ; but 
I ’m not so despicable as that ! If you were honestly 
sorry and ashamed of yourself, and came begging 
me to help you to a better way of living, do you 
think I would turn my back on you ? But you ’re 
not sorry — it is n’t in you ; and, by George, I shall 
hear of you at Monte Carlo one of these days ; and 
I should n’t wonder if you broke the banks and set 
yourself up for a nabob ! ” 

Musgrove stood motionless under the invective, 
glowering silently from beneath his knitted eye- 
brows. Not a pleasant object for a vis-a-vis at short 
range. His white face had grown darker and 
darker till it was quite purple ; his eyes had a wild, 
bleared look, perhaps the effect of long indulgence 
in that favorite drug of his. His breath came hard ; 
he was dwelling on the downfall of the hopes which 
he had so pinned upon this interview. His pride 
burned within him at the scornful words he had 


286 


AT DA YBREAK. 


received ; his veins all tingled with febrile fury and 
disappointment. The spirit of Axel’s fine honesty, 
towering above his careless accustomed self like the 
Afrit released from the peasant’s bottle, cowed his 
companion into intolerable abasement. He drew 
back and looked vengefully into the other’s bright 
contemptuous eye, and muttered something that 
sounded like profanity. 

“ I think it is about time to end the interview, Mr. 
Crafts,” said Axel, brushing his handkerchief across 
his forehead, and tilting back his head with insolent 
grace. “You will find the lake scenery very inter- 
esting as you return to the town.” 

Musgrove made a gurgling sound in his throat, 
and sprang over at him like a panther, his glazed 
eyes streaked with red. 

Axel’s gun slipped from his hand in the shock. 
He grasped his assailant, and strained with all his 
might to keep a footing on the little mound of turf. 
For one minute of desperation he thought his chance 
was small, and so it would have been if Musgrove 
had possessed his former power. But the man’s 
drugged system refused to second his will ; his first 
advantage was only a spasmodic effort of strength, 
and soon gave way in Axel’s healthy grip. Flis 
clutching hands were torn away ; down he rolled 
into the soft morass, grasping vainly at the yellow 
iris-heads that nodded over the treacherous slime. 

A fall of Pride, indeed ! The miserable creature 
struggled furiously, getting deeper and deeper as he 
struggled, and crying out to be helped. Axel, pale 


PERILOUS SPORTING GROUND. 287 


and panting, and streaming with perspiration, knelt 
on the little foothold won at such hazard, and looked 
down at him. Contempt, indignation and triumph 
strove together in the young man’s excited face. 

“ Help me out ! Are you going to let me be 
swallowed up in this cursed mud-hole before your 
eyes ? ” gasped Musgrove. 

The gun was resting as it fell, across the mound. 
Axel picked it up. 

“ Here, you villain, catch hold of that ! ” said he, 
reaching it out at arm’s length. “ Hold on tight, 
and I’ll pull you up; — and hang me if I ever 
wanted to do anything less ! ” 

A moment of hard pulling accomplished it. 
Musgrove crawled up on the turf and sat there, 
drawing short, heavy breaths, and trying wretchedly 
to clear himself from the glutinous bog-mud. Axel 
jumped over nimbly to another hillock and took a 
survey of him. His boyish sense of the comic 
suddenly triumphed over the consciousness of his 
narrow escape. “ I ’ve done my duty by you,” said 
he, “ and I don’t know^ but I ’ve done more than my 
duty, considering that you wanted to assassinate me. 
I hope I ’m charitable enough to wish you would 
turn over a new leaf ! Good-by, Mr. Crafts. Don’t 
trouble yourself to rise” — and the young man, 
shouldering his gun, went springing away to firmer 
ground. 

He had the curiosity, before re-entering his inn, to 
climb to a higher point which overlooked the moor. 
A sluggish figure was moving slowly and aimlessly 


288 


AT DAYBREAK. 


on its rough surface, as though careless of any des- 
tination. Axel saw it stop midway, take something 
from its pocket, and go through the motion of 
drinking. 

“ What they call an ‘ eye-opener,’ ” murmured 
Axel, “ in that section where Mr. Crafts is sure to 
turn up by and by ! Ah, the consummate scamp ! 
How he used to like old port, though ! — Too much 
‘ eye-opener,’ ” soliloquized the young man, as he 
descended to the inn, “ h not good in crossing a 
moseT 

Axel’s conjecture was wrong ; it was the old drug 
— the perfidious friend — that Musgrovewas putting 
to his lips for stimulus, with a hand all unnerved and 
fluttering. 

It was the last sight that Axel ever had of the 
fallen clergyman. Whether he finally found his way 
to Monte Carlo, as the young man predicted, and 
burned out his candle in the flame of that fascinating 
Hades ; or whether the black and deadly mose held 
his fate, is an unanswered question. One thing only 
is certain — that neither James Crafts nor Roderic 
Musgrove has ever been heard from since that day. 


THE STONE COTTAGE IS DESERTED. 289 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE STONE COTTAGE IS DESERTED. 

HE shadow that had hovered so long about the 



X Brands’ cottage settled there at last. The 
gentle confidante who held the key to Betty’s shyest 
of hearts had looked into its harmless secrets — not, 
perhaps, for the last time, but for the last time, at 
least, with the imperfect fondness of mortality. ■ The 
end was sudden. She stood one spring ni'ght with 
Betty on the garden-walk, and held her hands as they 
had their frequent little good-night chat. 

I feel so well this evening, my dear child ! ” she 
said brightly. Do you know, I have had some of 
the dullest feelings — I fancied them presentiments, 
that I was not to see my boy any more. I did not 
speak of them at the time, because it seemed so fool- 
ish, when I was not ill. But now I feel so very well 
and cheerful that you may laugh at me for such 
nervous notions, my love ! ” 

By morning the shadow had fallen ; and Betty 
knew that in truth the brown eyes would never shine 
upon their well-beloved any more. 

It was a sad, bewildered season through which 
they had to pass. The Karlsen family, not yet re- 
covered from the shock of their own loss, entered the 


290 


AT DAYBREAK. 


more fully into their friend’s grief. If Axel could 
have been with him, they said, it would have been 
so much better for both. But Axel was far away ; 
many a day’s journey stretched between him and his 
lonely father. 

John Karlsen went at once and took his post at 
the Doctor’s side, ready to do what little he could to 
comfort him. Mrs. Karlsen could do more, in a 
practical way, by taking the household into her 
hands, and directing the distressed servants, who had 
been fondly attached to their mistress. 

Betty went back and forth noiselessly between the 
two houses, finding a little relief for her heart-ache in 
steady occupation. The blow was a heavy one to 
her. Not only had she lost the dearest, most sym- 
pathetic of friends, but it seemed to her at first that 
a link had also been broken between herself and 
Axel. Still, holding by her fantastic child’s-faith of 
old, she was assured that Destiny still guarded the 
bonds which some day must draw him nearer and 
nearer, and back again, at las '. And by and by it 
came to seem as if this common loss of theirs was 
after all to be a tie, stronger in its sadness than any 
•fellowship of joy, so deep was Betty’s affection for 
the gentle lost one. 

The girl felt a mysterious calm encircle her as she 
moved about. The little room — Axel’s room — 
where her friend lay sleeping, became like a shrine. 
There the mother had always been happiest to stay ; 
they felt as if fulfilling her wish in letting her rest 
there for these last few hours. Axel’s lilies were in 


THE STONE COTTAGE IS DESERTED. 291 


bloom at the window. The “ Night ” medallion, 
marble witness of his childish slumbers, hung above 
her head. Betty came with her arms full of green 
branches, and twined one around the white symbol. 

She looked in again before going away, but turned 
back on the threshold, for Dr. Brand was there, 
alone. His dark head showed in the evening dusk, 
motionless on the bedside. 

Betty glided silently home through the wet grass, 
making no sign of grief till she was in her own room: 
But she sat up late at the window, looking toward 
the neighboring house ; and as she saw the moon 
silvering the thick vine around one little casement, 
sobbed softly to think how its pale light touched the 
carven Night upon the wall, and the no less quiet 
figures beneath it — one stilled by the blessed 
touch of Death ; the other, by the ruder hand of 
Life. 

“ If Axel knew ! ” she said, turning her pale face , 
up to the night-sky. “ Oh Axel, my poor boy ! ” 
And she wept and stretched up her hands as if it 
were conscious of her or of any human sorrow. The 
dew fell on her forehead soothingly as she knelt 
thinking of Axel ; and when after a while she slept, 
she went to comfort him in her faithful dreams. 

Dr. Brand would not remain in Lyme after the 
duties of that sad week were over. His friends kept 
him with them as much as possible. He came and 
sat in Mr. Karlsen’s library, his handsome head 
already bent and whitening at the temples. 

“ 1 am going to my boy,” he said, when they ques- 


292 


AT DAYBREAK, 


tioned about his plans. “ He will be glad to have 
me with him for a while. Afterwards I shall travel. 
I could n’t stay here, my dear friends, kind as you 
are to me.” 

So he went away, and the cottage was taken for 
summer use by a family of his acquaintance in the 
city. 

Betty’s heart ached cruelly many a time, when she 
saw, in passing, strange faces at the windows, and 
heard strange voices singing and laughing in the 
rooms whose dim pleasantness had been sweet to 
her through so many dreamlike days. It seemed a 
dreadful thing to see people lounging indifferently on 
the window-seat where Mrs. Brand’s workbasket used 
to sit, and where she used to look out kindly with 
her soft brown eyes. 

Somebody hung a red curtain at the little ivy- 
window ; and Betty resented it fiercely in secret, re- 
membering Axel’s dislike for that color. She had 
brought home the marble “ Night ” and had it hung 
in her music-room ; and very often its white disk 
swelled, quivered and shrank again under her full 
eyes as she sat alone playing, lost in her music and 
her thoughts. 

In winter and early spring, when the cottage 
was closed and the strange people away in the city, 
she used to go over by the short cut and walk about 
the grounds. There was a sort of woful pleasure 
in straying around there all alone, while the wind 
roughly switched the trees about, and the cottage 
stood stonily in their midst, with its blank shuttered 


THE STONE COTTAGE IS DESERTED. 293 

windows, its close-barred door. It wore, she thought, 
an air of patient waiting. Betty also knew what it 
mernt to wait, to be patient. She could not see what 
there was to wait for, but life now looked to her like 
one long waiting. 

“ What does it all amount to but that ? Everybody 
waits. There is nothing else in the world,” she said 
to herself, moving slowly homeward, as the chilly 
gusts pushed her and drove yellow strands of hair 
around her face, and the dry leav^es skipped along 
with her in a rustling host. 

Her mother looked down from an upper window 
at the slight, wind-driven figure, and smiled ; thought 
of her lost friends, and sighed ; and then wondered 
what comfort the child could find in wandering 
.about the deserted cottage in a raw east-wind. 

And so the time passed with her. Year followed 
year with little change ; she had no gayeties nor late 
hours to bring blue shadows under her eyes ; but the 
sweet Lyme summers tinted her cheeks and the win- 
ters brightened her clear glance, always fresh and 
innocent, like a child’s. It was a face over which 
the years passed lightly, and left little to be read 
of the sorrows they had brought. Day after day 
found her busied serenely with her home, her music, 
and her poor people, asking for no gayer , employ- 
ment, and always holding the Doctor’s unfailing let- 
ters “ the dearest thing in life.” 

The Doctor was well, and apparently bearing his 
loss as easily as they could hope. He stayed much 
in Denmark, and much with his son in England. Tn 


294 


AT DAYBREAK. 


his letters to Mr. Karlsen there was occasional refer- 
ence to Axel’s wife and home — which, strictly speak- 
ing,' was not a home, but a suite in a hotel. Fredrika 
preferred such an arrangement ; it was also best 
suited to their manner of life. She was very gay in 
England ; she liked a great deal of stir and excite- 
ment, and wanted to be able to rush off with a party 
of friends at a moment’s notice. Dr. Brand spoke of 
her with great reticence, after one or two somewhat 
bitter outpourings of his heart upon the subject. The 
stern contempt with which he had thrust away the 
memory of Else Oersted was scarcely softened after 
all those years. It would have been strange if he 
had been ready with open arms to receive her 
daughter. Fredrika’s frankness and good-humor 
might have won him in time ; but when he looked in 
her face and saw the unforgotten black eyes of the 
Oersted his heart recoiled, and turned with an inex- 
pressible longing to the soft gray glance of his Betty 
in the old home. Fredrika, poor woman, never 
could understand him, nor the hardness in his eye 
when it rarely met her own. She was a little afraid 
of him, and by and by a little resentful that her 
cheery advances found him so invariably cool and 
irresponsive. She could not know of the fantastic 
figure in flame-bright garments that flickered over 
his mental retina when he sat in her inoffensive pres- 
ence ; nor of the soft mocking voice that echoed 
hatefully in his ear when she talked to him. Yet he 
knew that Fredrika was not to blame for her eyes 
nor for her voice. 


THE STONE COTTAGE IS DESERTED. 295 


Axel, it seemed, had become entirely a man of the 
world, or at least was leading the life of such. He 
had made good investments, and needed not to be 
anxious about his bank-account. He was rich in 
friends — many of the kind that depend upon the 
bank-account, also many that would have liked him 
anyhow, for his own agreeable sake. His official 
duties were light, and left him much liberty ; in short, 
he was carrying out very well the part of what is 
commonly called a successful man. 

This little panorama of distant life was quite 
strange and curious to Betty, as she sat in her quiet 
home looking across the fields, and listened to her 
mother’s reading of the Doctor’s w^ords. 

“ I feel as if I were watching the world through a 
safe tower-window. How much I have seen of it, 
mamma, for one who has been so little away from 
home ! ” said she. 

“ Ah, much indeed, my dear,” said her mother 
softly; and both thought in silence of the locked 
desk which held Christina’s clever letters of many 
years. 

Betty hardly realized that it was her Axel — the 
boy-Axel — of whom all these things were written. 
She tried to imagine him now, as he must look and 
move : a great, bearded, fine-mannered, indifferent 
personage, of whom she might possibly feel afraid ; 
having lost none of the old grace, the old charm, 
but wearing them now with all worldliness, and per- 
haps — who knew.? — all selfishness. No, that she 
would not admit ; whenever that idea came to her 


296 


AT DAYBREAK, 


she put it to flight, and went faithfully back to her 
old idol, the double image of boy and man ; gener- 
ous, idle, kind-hearted, rather pompous, but always 
noble and sincere. 

“ The other Axel is a man in a story,^^ she repeated 
to herself ; “ f/iis is my Axel ; ” and she brooded 
over the image with an infinite fondness that a better 
man than Axel might have found it hard to merit. 

“ I am glad he is so far away now,” she sometimes 
thought. “ While he is away I have the same right 
to him as ever; but if we were nearer together — no, 
I suppose I could not bear to realize how changed 
his life is — in how different places his lines have 
fallen 1 Now I know it all, without feeling it.” 

The veil of distance tempered all news, trifling or 
important, that came to them across the sea ; even 
the news that certain letters brought in later days, of 
illness and suspense, of foreboding, and finally the 
laying-by of hope. And it was Axel’s wife about 
whom their thoughts now revolved, and in whose be- 
half messages of anxious interest followed each 
other again and again to England. The Doctor 
wrote of her now with a kind of careful earnestness, 
through which a tinge of remorse seemed to creep, 
as though he inwardly reproached himself with some 
indifference or coolness for which remorse might 
come too late. 

“ I have spoken of her less, and less kindly, than 
I might,” he wrote to Mr. Karlsen. “I always felt 
that she, as it were, took possession of her place in 
my family by what I have called manoeuvring. But 


THE STONE COTTAGE IS DESERTED. 297 


what I once resented I am willing now to excuse ; 
having read in it the impulse of sincere passion for 
the one remaining passion of my life — the one link 
between me and the world. Although older than my 
son, she has ever been most devoted to him ; and 
now, in the shadow of threatened bereavement, I 
face the consciousness that I have done small justice 
to her warm, disinterested spirit. I recognize, though 
not as an excuse, that my feeling toward her has 
been always qualified by certain disappointed hopes 
of mine for Axel, of which you, my friend, have long 
been aware. This was no fault of hers ; and I for- 
give her encroachments the more readily that I fore- 
see a mysterious fate about to lead my son through 
the experience which was so lately — but so much 
more cruelly — mine.” 

The Doctor’s foresight proved unerring. Another 
sad-bordered missive put an end to uncertainty ; 
Axel and his father were alone in the world to- 
gether. 

Mrs. Karlsen read the intelligence to Betty, who 
said little, though the tears sprang into her eyes as 
she listened. It was sad, but as unreal as all the 
rest. Afterwards, as she took a good-night glimpse 
of the stone cottage, looking cold and forlorn in the 
dusk, it all came upon her like a flash. 

Then she cried pitifully for the poor woman who 
had been taken away from life, the fair world, and 
Axel ; and she wondered still more pitifully, with her 
young heart full of honest sorrow, how much he 
really loved and mourned what he had lost. 


298 


AT DA VB TEAK. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

RETURN OF THE PRINCE. 

I N these days of changes, when sometimes it 
seemed to Betty that she in her little sphere 
was standing still, while all the rest of the world 
was spinning on and spinning away from her, one of 
her chief comforts was the company of her bright 
friend Rose. 

For Rose remained charming as ever, quite 
recovered from her severe fright upon the rail- 
way. Yet there were some changes to be observed 
even in her. The bright, frisky audacity of the 
earlier Rose was much subdued, so that some- 
times she appeared almost meek. After the 
sudden flight of its rector, St. Agatha’s had 
gone through a prolonged agony of substitutes, 
during which Rose had seceded from the family pew 
and slipped over to the Baptist congregation. Once 
Mr. Goodwillie was seen walking home with her 
after service. It was observed that he was very 
often at the Harrods’, and that they were rather 
inclined to make a pet of him ; which was natural, 
after his late championship of the young lady. The 
pummelling which he received on that occasion had 
not resulted seriously, though it had thrown him 


RETURN OF THE PRINCE. 299 

into a fever, during which the whole Harrod family 
had been unremitting in their attentions. After he 
was restored to health they continued the attentions; 
and Mr. Goodwillie, now the lion of the village, 
became very much at home in the fine Harrod resi- 
dence. 

These things were significant to Betty, but she 
said nothing. “ When Rose has anything to tell 
me,” thought the discreet maiden, “she will tell it.” 
And so she did, one day while the pair were trund- 
ling along in her little basket-carriage over a road 
which they used to follow to the violet-grounds. 

“ Up there,” said Rose, pointing with her whip at 
a shady clump of trees, “ is the spot where you had 
your first sight of the Reverend Roderic Musgrove ! 
Do you remember ? ” 

“Oh, perfectly well. He had been fishing, and he 
was whistling something operatic. I hate the thought 
of him ! Yet you used to admire him then. Rose.” 

“ So I did ! Yes, I really made quite a hero of 
him in those times. How are the mighty fallen ! 
Do you remember, when we were small creatures 
getting violets, how I used to say I should never 
marry anybody but a hero ? Well, my dear, do 
you know I think I have found a genuine one, this 
time !” 

“Oh, Rose, Rose ! You a minister’s wife ! ” 

“ Oh, Betty, Betty ! and such a minister ! Don’t 
fancy, my dear, that I am blinded to the facts. I 
know he is simple and old-fashioned, and a dreadful 
Baptist, and he does n’t know anything about Tri- 


300 


AT DAYBREAK, 


poses and Little-goes^ and he is not handsome, and 
he is shabby — and I adore him ! Oh, Betty, if you 
had seen him pick up that awful man by the neck, 
just like a kitten \ ” 

Betty gave the expected gasp of admiration, and 
looked sympathetically at her friend. 

“ Don’t you think, I had just been laughing to 
myself at those horrid scarlet things he wore around 
his wrists ! If I had only known what was inside of 
them — He never shall wear them again, though . 
but he shall wear the very nicest fur ones I can get 
for him, next winter. And he shall not look shabby 
any more. I never cared so much before about my 
money as I do now, on his account. Not that he 
likes it, however. Why, he ’s been quite dejected 
about it, for fear it will make him seem mercenary ! 
I told him that was not a compliment to me ; but he 
doesn’t know anything about compliments, you see. 
And I have talked a deal to him of all the benevo- 
lent things we can do with my objectionable money, 
so that now he is getting reconciled.” 

“ And how about papa and mamma ? are they 
reconciled too ? ” asked Betty, after she had laughed 
in sympathy. “ I can hardly imagine it of Mr. 
Harrod.” 

“ Mr. Harrod agrees to anything that Miss Harrod 
proposes ! I don’t really think, though, that he 
would have smiled upon it so readily but for the 
Musgrove muss. That affair upset papa so that he 
doesn’t know half the time what he is about. I 
believe it was in one of those fits of abstraction that 


RETURN OF THE PRINCE. 


301 


he gave his consent ! But he has a great regard for 
Mr. Goodwillie, ever since that frightful day on the 
train. Indeed, I don’t fancy Mr. Goodwillie would 
ever have thought of me if he had n’t found it neces- 
sary to knock somebody down in my behalf ; and 
it ’s quite certain I never should have thought of him. 
Dear me ! what if anybody had prophesied it to me 
in those school-girl days ? Well, Betty, we don’t 
any of us know what we’re coming to, as Mrs. 
Ricker says ! I dare say you will furnish the next 
surprise.” 

“ Not immediately, I think,” Betty said, smiling. 
“ You need n’t feel concerned about me, Mrs. Good- 
willie. I ’m very comfortable, thank you ! ” 

“ But I was sorry that you sent away Jack. Don’t 
be cross, but I used to build air-castles for you. If 
you had taken Jack it w'ould have been so very nice, 
and you could have gone about so much ! ” 

“ But I don’t want to go about. If I were a man 
I should certainly want to use strong language with 
regard to Jack — only then it would n’t be called for. 
I have always been so badgered about him ! ” 

“ Unkind Betty ! You would have pitied him if 
you had seen his woful looks when he returned from 
the Water Gap.” 

“Oh, I think Jack is better now,” said Jack’s 
adored, breaking into a laugh. “I heard of his 
making fearful havoc among the city young ladies, 
last winter. I hope he will try to be considerate of 
them.” 

“Wh}^, then. I’ll waste no more sympathy on 


302 


AT DAYBREAK. 


him,” said Rose scornfully. “ The faithless weather- 
cock ! ” 

“ Oh, no,” protested her friend. “ I ’m sure it ’s 
fortunate if one is able to throw off his cares and 
amuse himself a little. That is all that could be 
expected — of Jack. And we are all more or less 
elastic, you know. It has often occurred to me that 
one of the most humiliating things in our human 
weakness is the ease with which we forget.” 

Rose looked at her with a soft intelligence in her 
smile. “Of all people who are open to that re- 
proach,” said she, “I believe you are the one who 
deserves it least. You will never be humiliated in 
that way. You are one who does not forget.” 

“ Well, I think you are right,” said Betty gently, 
with an answering smile. “ I do not easily forget.” 

And Rose asked never a question, but thought of 
some girlish talk, years before, among the wood- 
violets. 

St. Agatha’s found a new' rector by and by to stand 
under her mellow lights in the Reverend Roderic’s 
place. But Rose never went back to the family pew^ 
as a regular attendant. The fastidious little High 
Church lady gave up her crosses and altar-work, and 
her aristocratic whims, and stepped quietly into the 
post of a “ common preacher’s ” wife. Mr. Harrod 
built a bird’s-nest of a parsonage in the autumn ; and 
Mrs. Goodwillie took her pony-phaeton there, and 
experienced the greatest delight in driving her hus- 
band about instead of letting him tramp through the 
long parochial walks that he found so important. 


RETURN OF THE PRINCE. 


303 


Betty often laughed to see them spinning over the 
road in the “basket,” Rose snapping her little rib- 
boned whip triumphantly, and Mr. Goodwillie beam- 
ing beside her, younger and cheerier of face than 
ever. As Rose had promised herself, he never looked 
shabby any more. He was a happy, prosperous man 
now, as he deserved ; his only complaint being that 
he was not allowed sufficient exercise on foot, and 
that his wife’s extravagance, where it concerned him- 
self, was quite beyond his power to restrain. 

And Betty ? Well, the seasons- were flying faster 
and faster over her yellow head, each one tinged with 
its own peculiar shade of melancholy^ which was not 
sorrow, but only the shadow of old associations. She 
wished sometimes that the seasons might all melt into 
one, and spare her the changes that always stirred a 
painful restlessness within her. And most of all she 
dreaded the soft indicible sadness of the spring. 
The chatter of building birds made her dreamy ; the 
fragrance of the early flowers which she often wore 
brought tears into her eyes. No one saw that ; but 
she used to play her Chopin then as she never could 
at other times ; and her mother, sitting in an upper 
chamber, listened and wept. 

Mr. and Mrs. Karlsen were sent for in May by 
Aunt Bertha. The poor lady was terribly lonely, and 
begged for the society of her brother and his wife for 
a week or two before she went out of town. She had 
grown unusually fond of them of late years, but had 
never wanted to visit them since Christina’s death. 
So they went to the city for a week, and Betty was 
left in solitude with the maids. 


304 


AT DAYBREAK, 


She liked that very well, especially in the thought- 
ful mood which this season induced. The house rang 
with her plaintive music nearly all day ; and Hulda and 
Maria, stopping their work now and then to listen, 
would wonder that poor Miss. Betty’s arms did n’t 
ache dreadfully with so much playing ! 

Her mother and father had been gone several days. 
It was very warm, for May, so that she had put on a 
light frock and thrown open all the windows. After 
a morning of “ ballades ” and “ reveries ” the young 
mistress of the house had resolved to exchange poetry 
for prose, and with a bit of sewing-work in her hands, 
pushed up a little rocker where she could look out 
across the garden. Prose ? oh no, everything was 
poetry in this sweet May air. The western windows 
let in showers of glimmering light from between the 
branches outside. There was such a loveiy quiet 
everywhere ; such a far-away shine upon the hills ! 
How, in the midst of this ‘Eden-like freshness and 
beauty, could any creature send up its cry of weari- 
ness or grief ? But why, then, must every such shining 
afternoon bring back a train of other afternoons that 
had sunk so long ago behind those western hills ? 

“ Oh, Miss Betty, please, you ’re sitting right in a 
most horrid draught ! ” said Hulda, on her way up- 
stairs. 

“ I don’t care, Hulda. I would n’t shut out this 
delightful air for anything you could mention.” 

Betty let her head droop against the chair-back, 
and her hands upon her lap, with a disheartened 
look. “ Mamma said I should be lonely,” she 


RETURN OF THE PRINCE. 305 

thought. “ I told her it was n’t possible ; but this 
seems like it.” 

The stone cottage was in view, across the hall and 
through the dining-room windows. The old footpath 
was half effaced under straggling grass, it was so little 
used in these days. But some one was using it at the 
very moment, walking on it slowly and trying to clear 
it with a stick. A large figure, that was in some way 
familiar, so that Betty straightened up and looked at 
it piercingly. She would have taken it for Dr. Brand, 
but it walked with a heavier step, and there was a 
different poise to its head. A well-known poise ! 
Was she, for a certainty, awake } She went out to 
the porch, shading her eyes with her hand. 

The strange gentleman was bearded, and wore 
brown travelling-clothes. He looked about him, as he 
came up under the elms, with very grave and pensive 
brown eyes. At the flutter of Betty’s light draperies 
upon the steps he paused, looked inquiringly, and 
raised his hat with a serious smile. 

I believe,” said he, “ you don’t recognize me.” 

Betty held out her hands. “ Yes, I know you,” she 
said. “ And I am very glad to see you. Axel.” 

That ever she should have taken Axel Brand for a 
stranger ! 

He came up the steps, and they went into the 
music-room together. “You knew she said, 

“ quickly enough.” 

“Oh,” said Axel, “you are just the same. Every- 
thing is just the same.” His eye wandered around 
the room, and he drew a long breath. “ Everything 


3o6 


AT DAYBREAK, 


about here, I mean. — Your mother and father are 
well?” 

“ Oh, I am so sorry ! they are away now, for the 
week. Yes, they are well. Aunt Bertha sent for 
them, and I am quite alone. I was just beginning to 
feel a little deserted and dull.” 

“ I am glad to be on hand, then, as a poor res- 
torative,” said Axel. “You haven’t asked me why 
I chose to appear so unexpectedly ! ” 

“ Why did you ? It is a pleasant surprise.” 

“ And I like to surprise people. I wanted to see 
if you would know me.” 

“ Oh — after a minute,” said Betty. “ I did not 
hesitate long, you know.” 

“ But I am very much changed ? ” he persisted. 

“ Very much,” Betty admitted gravely. 

“ You will not notice it by and by,” said he. “ It is 
because you have not seen me for so long — partly. 
I am not as anxious now to look venerable as I was 
once, in my school-days.” 

Then they talked of the Doctor, who had come as 
far as the city and would be with them in a day or 
two ; and of Axel’s life abroad, his occupations and 
journeyings, and the probable length of his visit. It 
was all very simple and serious ; each, to the other’s 
mental eye, was wrapped in mourning garments. 
They touched but lightly on the subject of their 
losses, though it was all the time present in their 
minds, and betraying itself in their words. 

Axel's eye fell upon the Night medallion ; he 
pointed at it without speaking. 


RETURN OF THE PRINCE. 


307 


“Yes,” said Betty, “I wanted it here. She was 
very fond of it, always. She slept under it, at the 
last ; and there was myrtle hung around it.” 

Axel got up and walked about the room, an old 
restless way of his. 

“Oh,” said he, pressing his forehead against the 
window-pane. “I did not think it would seem so 
much like home to me ! ” 

There was something childish in the exclamation ; 
Betty was very much moved. 

“ I am happy to know that it does seem so,” said 
she in a low voice. “You are at home here, remem- 
ber, Axel.” 

She had tea brought into the music- room, so 
that they might have the last of the sunlight. 
Hulda, coming with the tea-tray, failed at first to 
recognize Mr. Axel, and made up for it afterwards by 
a flood of delighted compliments when he gave her a 
friendly shake of the hand. Maria the housekeeper, 
also, found occasion to pass through the hall ; and 
paid her respects to Mr. Axel with a gratified curtsey 
and chuckle. ** 

Betty drew chairs to the tea-stand, and began to 
make a hospitable tinkling among the flowered cups 
that her guest remembered. A thread of pale-blue 
steam purled up cheerfully from the spout of the 
little urn ; the sunshine danced about over the burn- 
ished tea-things. 

Axel drew a long, contented sigh as he dropped 
into his chair. “ Yes, it is very much like home,” 
said he, looking thoughtfully at the sunlit head be- 
hind the urn. 


308 


AT DA YBREAK. 


He sat and talked like one in a dream ; and some- 
times grew silent, holding his cup half-empty while 
his eyes roved away over the fields. Betty felt a 
rising in her throat as she glanced at the grave, 
guarded face beside her, and the eyes so heavy with 
reading the mysteries of Time and Loss. But he 
brightened a little now and then ; and she found that 
the changes in his face became, as he had said they 
would, less and less apparent while she watched him. 
She had by chance a tuft of their familiar wild- 
flowers in her belt ; she saw him look at it with 
recognition, as at an old friend. 

The pleasant coimtiy^-sounds came to them faintly 
across their area of silence — lowings and jinglings 
from the pastures, muflled trundling of home-bound 
farmers’ wagons. It seemed to both that the quiet 
afternoon had been brought back for them out of 
old days ; and yet, as Betty said to herself, there was 
no longer anything melancholy in it. 

“ I will play to you, and celebrate your coming,” 
said she, when the shadows fell and the tray had 
been carried away. 

Axel sank into a low chair by the piano-, with his 
head inclined upon his hand. “ Yes,” said he, “ as 
you used to do.” 

And she played for him what she had pla3'ed so 
many years before, the “ Farewell ” Sonata, ending 
with that triumphant burst of happiness, the “ Re- 
turn.” 

He gave a little murmur of satisfaction after it, 
and she could see his eyes sparkling in the shadow. 


RETURN OF THE PRINCE. 


309 


“ Thanks, many thanks, Betty,” said he. “ It is a 
welcome, indeed ! You play that wonderfully well.” 

“ Oh, there is nothing wonderful about it,” said 
Betty in her heart. “ It would be wonderful if T 
did not play it well. It is the Retur7i of the Prince ; 
but that you do not understand, my best-beloved.” 

They would not have lights brought, but went into 
the porch when night had fallen. The veil of semi- 
darkness seemed to remove a slight restraint that 
each had felt ; they talked freely of the experiences 
which had come to them, and sympathized with each 
other. Axel referred to his wife, sparingly, and with 
a certain gentle forbearance that recalled the Doc- 
tor’s manner. But Betty spoke most of Mrs. Brand ; 
and Axel’s voice failed as he tried to thank her for 
her devotion to the one so deeply loved, so faithfully 
remembered. 

The May moon rose, and dimly lighted the rust- 
ling alleys of the garden. It had nearly passed 
from their sight before Axel brought the long talk to 
a close. 

“It is too late for you to sit here in the night- 
damp,” said he, rising. “ I will say good-night and 

go.” 

“ Go where. Axel? You are not going to leave 
us to-night ? Maria expects you to stay, as a matter 
of course, and is making her arrangements accord- 
ingly.” 

“ I am sorry to disappoint Maria,” said Axel, smil- 
ing, “ but I had a fancy to pass the night in my little 
old room over there. I have the key, and the peo- 


310 


AT DAYBREAK, 


pie have left the rooms all in order. Mine, they tell 
me, looks much the same.” 

“ Only they have hung a red curtain in it,” said 
Ketty. “But you will be here at breakfast in the 
morning ? ” 

“ Oh yes, I will be here.” He loitered a few mo- 
ments longer, leaning against the porch. “What 
would you have thought,” he asked, “ if you had seen 
me coming across in the little path this afternoon, 
without any warning? Would you have taken it for 
my ghost ? ” 

“No,” said Betty, “but rather for your father’s. 
I did see you coming, and at first I thought of your 
father.” 

“ Oh, you did,” said Axel. “ Then the edge was 
taken from my surprise after all.” 

“Why no, indeed! it was only protracted — the 
length of the footpath. The old path is not very 
well kept now, is it, Axel ? ” 

“No. It is all overgrown.” He stood another 
moment, looking down abstractedly, and filliping a 
fallen leaf on the step with his walking-stick. “ Well,” 
said he soberly. “ Good-night.” He ran down the 
steps and looked back at her, and waved his hat in 
the old boyish fashion. The step with which he went 
away was lighter than that with which he had come. 

'■'•'‘Good-nighty sweet prince said Betty, under 
her breath ; and hidden by the porch, she kissed her 
locked fingers and stretched them laughing toward 
the vanishing figure. She could laugh now ; she did 
laugh for pure happiness, while she fastened doors 


RETURN OF THE PRINCE. 31I 

and windows, and went up the stairs like a bird. 
Where were now all the dulness and lonesomeness ? 
She sat in her room and looked out toward the one 
light burning redly in its curtained casement. “ More 
than I asked is granted to me,” she murmured grate- 
fully. “ I never asked for very much, truly. But I 
am happy now, once for all, even with nothing more. 
And I would never presume to ask for any greater 
happiness if only I might have this — if I might 
always see the light burning so every night, and know 
that it was lit — by him ! ” 

O foolish, faithful Betty ! 

It is easy to fancy passion smouldering without end 
in the dark heart of a rose ; but who would ever sus- 
pect anything so warm and lasting at the heart of a 
white “ Northern lily ? ” 


312 


AT DAYBREAK, 


CHAPTER XXV. 

DAYBREAK ! 

I F any dreams visited Betty that night — and it is 
likely they did — their stay must have been brief. 
She woke very, very early ; so early that no bird had 
yet begun to twitter. Hulda and Maria, as early 
birds generally as there were about, were still buried 
in sleep. 

But there was no more sleep for their young mis- 
tress. A rush of blissful consciousness sprung her 
eyelids apart, and kept them so. How could the 
birds keep silent so long, when her heart was already 
awake and singing in the darkness ? 

She sprang up and dressed without a candle. The 
house was too narrow for her ; she wanted the free, 
cool outer air. How beautiful it would be to see the 
day break now ! She slipped downstairs and let 
herself out on the porch — the blessed porch where 
the Prince had graciously sat, and even lingered. 
She went down and stood between the lions, all cold 
and moist with dew. The lilacs breathed spicily 
through the dusk. Now a signal twittering was 
heard; the chip-birds roused themselves, looked 
down from their airy lodges, and probably wondered 
at a house-mistress who rose at such unseasonable 


DA Y BREAK I 


313 


hours. And while she listened to their drowsy roll- 
call, another sound came across the deep stillness. 
A door opened and shut in the stone cottage, and 
steps were distinct upon the gravel-walk. Axel’s 
rest had been no less brief, it seemed ; for there he 
was, strolling nearer and nearer, in the old track 
under the apple-trees. 

Betty would have stolen back into the house, but 
he had raised his head and observed her. So she 
stayed there, straight and quiet in her white gown ; 
one might have taken her for a statue by the morn- 
ing twilight. He stopped for an instant, with an 
intent look ; and then, quite as if expecting her there, 
came on through the dewy grass and stood before 
her, one foot upon the steps. 

“ What brings you out so early ? Magnetism ? ” 
said he, in his natural blitjie tone, but with a serious 
face. 

“Very likely. Is that what brings you out so 
early .? ” returned Betty, nodding serenely from her 
elevation. 

Watching her with fixed eyes through the misty 
morning, he seemed to have forgotten himself and 
wandered off into the clouds. 

“You should not have come out so soon. You 
are not awake yet ! Rouse up, dreamer ! ” she said 
with a laugh, shaking down a shower of wet lilac- 
blooms upon them both. 

“ Yes, I am awake, at last,” he returned, with 
sudden energy. “ I have just found out what I 
came for — away over the ocean. I hardly kne’’* 
first, but I know now.” 


314 


AT DAYBREAK. 


A look like sunrise crept into Betty^s face ; un- 
iinagined fires lit up suddenly in her soft gray eyes, 
as she smiled down upon him, and waited. 

“ I came to look for something I left behind me 
once — it must have been a great many years ago, 
Betty. What was it, do you guess ? 

Betty guessed, studying the sky with mischievous 
and shining eyes — “ Not a heart, was it ? ” She 
was so sure, now, what he would say. 

“ Yes ! My heart,” Axel said earnestly. The 
little hand that welcomed him last night with those 
jubilant chords was resting on the old stone lion’s 
crinkled mane ; he laid his face down upon it in 
quick emotion. “ And here I find it, at last,” he 
went on. . “ Shall I ask for it back ? Will you let 
me have it back, Betty ? ” 

“ No, for I want it mysejf,” Betty answered laugh- 
ing. “ But I will keep you with it if you like.” 

“ Do you know,” Axel added after a little silence, 
“ I think I must have left it here about twenty years 
since, as nearly as I can judge.” 

“ Twenty years ! And you have done without it 
all that time ? What a useful article it must be ! ” 
said Betty with a sly and happy glance. 

“ But I could not have done a better thing with 
it, you ’ll admit,” he retorted, bending his face again 
over the avaricious little hand. She made no dissent 
to that, but dropped the other hand upon his brown 
hair and played with it lightly. 

“ A gray streak ! ” she exclaimed, her eyes resting 


DA YBREAK! 


315 


on it meditatively. “And another! Quite a pow- 
dering of gray — on a boy’s head, too! You are 
always a boy to me, you know. Have you forgotten 
our old story. Axel, about the Prince who rode out 
into the world and stayed until his hair was gray ? 
You are the Prince. You always were the Prince, 
to me.” 

“Then,” said he, with his old buoyancy, you are 
the Princess Faithful ! And that you surely are, my 
lady. Have I not laid my shield at your feet, at 
last?” 

“ Well,” she conceded with a merry shrug. “ Yes, 
I am the Princess Faithful — since you are the 
Prince.” And by and by, after a long pause wherein 
her thoughts seemed to have flown back to some re- 
mote point, she said, breaking into a sudden ecstatic 
laugh — “I was dreadfully jealous of Flora Tomp- 
kins, did you know it ? ” 

“Jealous of whom^ did you say ? ” inquired Axel, 
looking up with combined indignation and perplexity. 

“ Of course, you don’t remember,” she said, slip- 
ping the hand under his arm, and leaning on it 
joyously. “ But I do. I remember everything. 
Every little thing! See here. Axel — these lions 
are old friends of ours, are n’t they ? We played 
with them when we were little children. I was 
always fond of them ; they used to seem alive to 
me. But they are made of granite — * firm and en- 
during,’ are they not ? ” 

“ ‘ Firm and enduring’ — ^^yes.” 

“ But I know of something else that is firm and 


AT DAYBREAK. 


316 

enduring — that has lived as long, almost, as the 
lions, and will far, far outlast them — into the ages of 
ages, my Axel ! Your turn now. Guess that riddle, 
traveller ! ” 

Ah — he knew the answer well enough ; and his 
brown eyes filled with tears — of self-reproach 
partly ; and of humility, perhaps ; and of joy above 
all. 

“ Look, look ! ” she cried, pointing him eagerly to 
the east. “The sunrise at last! What a magnifi- 
cent sight ! ” 

Yes, the sun was coming up, and childhood came 
airily back with it ; all the world was rosy and twink- 
ling for happiness. Larks shot up into the blooming 
sky ; a fresh wind rose and wrestled with the elm- 
branches. There were whole heavens of content in 
the gurgling dove-notes on the roof. 

“ It is worth the waiting twenty years for such a 
daybreak as this ! Ah,” said Betty, gazing unspeak- 
able things into that radiant distance, “ now, surely, 
I understand for the first time how the Fire-w’orship- 
pers must feel ! ” 

“ So do I,” said Axel, in a lower voice. 

But he was not looking for his fires in the east ; 
only at their nearer glow in the depths of two wide, 
enchanted gray eyes. 


714 i 


C. J. Peters & Son, Electrotypers, Boston. 





















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